


A Hero in Need

by sophisticus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9056176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophisticus/pseuds/sophisticus
Summary: While on a brief mission in the Western Approach to clear out a red templar encampment, Delilah Lavellan and her companions accidentally fall into an abandoned mineshaft into a section of the Deep Roads. While trying to find an escape, they encounter a hero who needs help slaying the archdemon rumored to be imprisoned in the area.





	1. A Gift or Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is the same as this work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8526874 which I had posted as a teaser. Smut warning!

“I believe I will place a bet of…four silvers.” Josephine gave the cards in her hand a confirmatory peek before sliding the money to the center of the table. Next to her, Varric snorted.

“You don’t have a hand worth six silvers,” he accused. He leaned forward, staring down the Antivan. “You’re bluffing.”

If the dwarf’s accusation got to her, the ambassador didn’t show it. “If you believe it to be a bluff, master Tethras, then by all means, raise it,” she replied politely.

Varric examined his cards closely; beside them, Cassandra and Delilah looked on in amusement. Delilah peeked at her own cards while Varric grumbled to himself. It had taken several games played with Varric, the Iron Bull, and sometimes Sera, but she felt like she was finally starting to get the hang of Wicked Grace. At any rate, it was about time she won back her money that Josephine had skillfully won from her the first time they’d all played together.

“I see your four,” the dwarf said at length, pushing his bet forward into the pile in the center, “and I raise you…six.”

“Not feeling very lucky tonight, dwarf?” Iron Bull laughed from the other side of the table. The qunari tipped back his flagon and gulped down a mouthful of ale, then belched. “Too bad. I see your six, and raise you a gold.”

Delilah wrinkled her nose as she stared at her cards. Across from her, Varric took notice. “Too rich for your taste, Sunny?” he teased. Delilah stuck her tongue out at him.

“I just recently bought a new set of armor,” she replied. “I’m a little short on cash at the moment, that’s all.”

“You’re going to be even shorter by the time I’m finished,” Varric chuckled.

“And I still won’t even be as short as you,” Delilah shot back, and everyone else at the table chuckled.

“Ach! You wound me,” the dwarf said overdramatically, placing a hand to his heart in mock agony. “I’ll have your money yet. What’s your bet?”

Delilah hummed thoughtfully, examining her cards again. “I’ll see your one gold, Bull,” she said slowly, sliding it to the pile in the middle, “but that’s all.”

“Do you have a poor hand tonight, Lady Lavellan?” Josephine asked, feigning indifference. Delilah gave her a sly smile.

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we, Lady Montilyet?” the Inquisitor said lightly. “Cullen told me all of your tells, you know.”

Josephine gave a daintily offended sniff at the accusation. “As I told him, a lady has no tells. Besides, even if I did, I highly doubt Commander Cullen would be able to pick up on them. And it’s not as if you don’t have tells of your own.” The Antivan gave a pointed glance to Delilah’s pointed ears, which couldn’t help but to twitch whenever she was under stress. As if to betray her, they gave a subtle but visible tic under everyone’s stare.

“Alright, alright!” Delilah said loudly over everyone’s guffawing. She felt herself turning a little red in the face beneath her freckles, but she sat up straighter and cleared her throat. “Cassandra, it’s your bet.”

Beside her, Cassandra gave a heavy sigh. “I can never remember which cards mean what,” she grumbled. A moment later, she pushed a single gold piece forward. “I see your one gold, that’s it.”

“No bravado for the Seeker?” Varric probed with a grin. Cassandra glowered in return, but didn’t deign to answer.

“Alright, if everyone has placed their bets,” Josephine interrupted, “it is time to show your cards.” One by one, everyone showed their hand, and Iron Bull crowed in triumph.

“Hell yeah!” he chortled, scooping up the pile of money. “The eyepatch wins me yet another round.”

“What’re you going to spend all that on?” Varric asked as he stood, stretching to release the kinks from his neck. Everyone else stood as well, dusting off their clothes or massaging away the soreness of sitting still for the past two hours.

“More beer, of course,” Bull scoffed, getting another laugh out of everyone.

“Are you up for one more round, Ruffles?” the dwarf asked. Josephine waved a hand lightly.

“Oh no, it is far too late in the evening,” she replied. “Thank you, but I must be getting to bed.” With a light curtsy, the ambassador swept out the tavern door.

“What about you, Sunny? Seeker?”

Both Cassandra and Delilah shook their heads. “I too must retire for the evening,” the Nevarran replied. “As should you, we’re all leaving for the Western Approach in the morning.”

“Yes, Varric, or do you want to lose more money before we leave?” Delilah teased. Varric held his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he relented with a laugh. “Just checking. I’ll see you two in the morning, then.”

The two women bid him goodnight, then turned and left. “I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t call Josephine on her bluff,” Delilah said offhandedly. She shivered and pulled her jacket closer around her body; at this time of night, especially up in the mountains, the air became downright frigid. “Since Bull had the winning hand.”

“I still fail to understand the concepts of that game,” Cassandra replied. She puffed hot breath into her clasped hands to warm them. The sparse grass crunched lightly under their feet, stiff with frost. “Are the snakes worth more than the lions? And why do angels trump emperors?”

“Beats me,” the elf sighed. “These human games tend to do little more than to leave me more confused, as well as more spent out of money, than when I began.”

“I know what you mean.” They walked in silence for a minute more, both of them heading up the steps into the main hall. Eventually, Cassandra spoke again. “Back there, you mentioned Commander Cullen. It seems the two of you have become somewhat serious.”

Delilah gave a surprised laugh. “Is that a question?”

“No, I’m not questioning it, I’m just…I’m happy for you, is all I mean to say,” the Seeker said hastily. “I’m glad that both you and he are finding some solace in one another. Neither of you have had an easy time of any of this, and it is good to see some happiness coming out of all this chaos. You _are_ happy, are you not?”

Delilah hummed thoughtfully, turning to glance back at the tower that housed Cullen’s office and bedroom. “Yes, we are,” she said at length. “You’re right, it hasn’t been easy for either of us, but sometimes we can manage to forget about it all, even if for just a little while. Sometimes that’s all we need.”

Cassandra smiled. “Being in love suits you.”

Delilah jerked to a stop, going red in the face once more. “What are you talking about?” she sputtered.

“You’re in love,” the Seeker laughed quietly. “It’s written all over your face.”

“No, my vallaslin is written all over my face,” the elf protested, pointing at the tattooed lines on her cheekbones and forehead. “I haven’t…I mean, Cullen and I haven’t…I’m not-”

Cassandra patted her on the shoulder, chuckling. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” she assured her. “I just wanted to congratulate you. Goodnight, Inquisitor.” And with that, the warrior was gone, leaving Delilah alone with her indignation.

The mage huffed at the taller woman’s retreating figure before finally turning to retire to her room. She and Cullen had become very infatuated with one another, sure, but love? With a human? Delilah shook her head in disbelief as she ascended the stairs. Love was something that had been flitting around the corners of her mind the past couple of months or so, but she wasn’t ready to confront it yet.

Her thoughts turned instead to Cullen, with his soft smile and softer touch. They had finally worked up the mutual courage to make love, following their return from the Winter Palace and their romantic dance once Dutchess Florienne had been arrested. The memory, as sweet and sensual as it had been, still brought a blush to her cheeks four months later.

She pushed the door open and ascended the last flight of stairs, still lost in thought as she began shedding layers. Her jacket and scarf were tossed to the couch, and her jerkin was halfway unbuttoned before she spotted a small, paper-wrapped package sitting on her desk. She had just reached for it when a voice behind her made her jump.

“There you are, I’ve been waiting for ages.” Delilah turned, hands clasping her shirt closed, to find Cullen behind her, looking both amused and contrite. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized. He turned halfway, gesturing at the ajar glass door behind him. “I must’ve stepped outside just before you came in. But if you’re getting undressed, by all means, don’t let me stop you.” His mouth twisted in a smile.

Delilah chuckled, turning to hide her blush as she resumed unbuttoning her shirt. “You only startled me a little,” she admitted. “I recognized your voice.” She felt Cullen’s eyes on her as she crossed the room to her dresser and undid her breast band with her back to him. From the dresser she retrieved a soft night shirt and pulled it on, soothing away the goosebumps raised by the chilly air. Next to go were her boots and riding pants.

“Is that my shirt?” Cullen interrupted, amused. Delilah froze in the middle of pulling on a pair of comfortable leggings.

“Uhh…perhaps,” she said evasively, finishing dressing at last. She gathered up her dirty clothes and put them in a pile in the corner. Cullen’s arms wrapped around her from behind, and she leaned back against him with a smile. He pressed a kiss against the shell of her ear, eliciting a shiver from her.

“You were going to come see me before you left for the Western Approach tomorrow, right?” he murmured.

“Of course,” the elf replied. “I’m a little surprised you’d ask, I always come see you before I leave on a mission.”

“I know, I just had a gift I wanted you to have before you left,” he explained.

Delilah glanced over at the parcel on her desk. “Is it that package?”

“Yes. Would you like to open it?” he asked eagerly. She smiled up at him.

“Of course, you know I can never resist an unopened package,” she teased. “It’s not my birthday, is it? Or some other human custom I’m unaware of?”

“No,” Cullen chuckled as she walked over and picked it up. “It’s more of a ‘just because’ kid of gift.”

It was somewhat rectangular, around an inch or two thick, and fairly heavy. Delilah pulled on the string that held the paper shut, and the paper fell away to reveal a book, plainly bound in green leather but still of unmistakable quality. She opened it, expecting it to be some historical book, or an index on herbs and their uses, or a text on magic – but it was blank.

“There’s nothing written in this,” she stated, giving Cullen a questioning stare, and her brows furrowed when he chuckled.

“It’s a notebook, for you to fill out however you want. I know you mentioned at some point wanting to write down all you know of your language, as well as all of your history, so I figured that you’d need something to write in,” he clarified, stepping close. “Here, look…” He held his hand out for the book, and Delilah handed it to him. He flipped to the front, where instead of a title page was a simple sentence: “This book belongs to the library of:” On the line below, in Cullen’s hand, was her own name. Below, a small written note: “For Delilah; create your own path and your own history. Yours, Cullen.”

Delilah smiled softly. “Cullen, I love it,” she said sincerely. The warrior smiled back happily, scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m glad,” he laughed. “I knew – I mean, I assumed, at least-”

Delilah cut him off with a soft kiss. “Thank you,” she murmured. Cullen pulled her close, his armor making the embrace slightly uncomfortable, but she didn’t care.

“You’re most welcome,” he murmured back. They kissed again, but it was broken by Delilah shivering in the chilly air. Cullen ran his hands over her arms, trying to make some friction. “Here, let me get your jacket-”

“Oh no, thank you but I’m fine,” Delilah said hastily. “I just need to get the fire going. Do you mind if I…?” She trailed off, gesturing towards the fireplace.

“Not at all.”

The mage turned to the hearth and knelt to pile some kindling, and with a flick of her wrist she set the pile ablaze. When Delilah had been first recruited to the Inquisition, Cullen had been polite but understandably wary of her. Now, a year later and well into a romantic relationship, he didn’t so much as bat an eyelid anytime she used magic. Despite this, she continued to ask if he minded before she did so; or at least, let him know so it didn’t startle him.

Delilah stood and brushed the soot from her knees, glancing outside. “It’s getting late,” she remarked.

“Ah, you probably want to get to bed then,” Cullen said, turning to leave, but he stopped when her hand caught his arm.

“No, I wasn’t trying to make you leave,” Delilah laughed. She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek, stroking his stubble with her fingertips. “It would be nice for you to stay, if that’s what you want.”

Cullen turned and pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand, giving her a shy smile. “I’d like that.”

The elf smiled back, then hooked a finger in the collar of Cullen’s armor and pulled him down so she could reach to kiss him again. His hands clasped her waist, holding her close. The kiss deepened and soon the two were breathing heavily. Delilah began tugging at the straps holding on Cullen’s armor, and he pulled away to help her.

His coat, gauntlets, and chest-plate dropped to the floor within a minute, leaving him in his undershirt and pants. Cullen’s fingers wound into her hair, gently tugging it free of its braid as their mouths met again and again. Her teeth grazed his lower lip and he jerked her closer in response; she could clearly feel his eagerness pressing against her hip through his pants. She stepped backwards, pulling him towards the bed. Her hands slid up under his shirt, over the jumping muscles in his abdomen, before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

Delilah had seen Cullen shirtless before, both from their previous night spent together, as well as when training would get particularly hot and sweaty and Cullen would shed his shirt for comfort. His light skin was marred here and there by scars, both from blades and from magic, and she traced a fingertip over a particularly blotchy burn scar on his chest. It still amazed her how, despite all the horrors he had witnessed caused by magic, that he would not only allow himself to be so alone and vulnerable around a mage, but that he _wanted_ to be alone and vulnerable, with _her_. And he wasn’t so bad for a shem, she thought to herself with a smile.

Cullen’s hand caught hers. “Delilah…” His voice was a murmur, almost too low to hear. She kissed him again, and again, and again, until their faces were flushed. Cullen quickly pulled her shirt over her head, leaving them both in just their pants. The bed pressed against the backs of her legs and Cullen lightly pushed her until she laid on her back, the ex-templar looming above her.

“Maker, you are so beautiful,” he said reverently. He kissed her fervently as his hands slid slowly down her body. Shivers of pleasure stole over her as is fingertips traced the vallaslin that was etched into her shoulders, arms, chest, and stomach. His mouth left hers and descended to her neck, suckling soft, wet kisses to the tender skin. At the same time, his hands found her breasts and massaged firmly. He caught and rolled her nipples between his fingers, which sent shocks of heat directly to her core. His stubble scraped wonderfully on her throat, and she couldn’t help but whimper as his teeth caught on her skin.

At the noise, he pulled back with furrowed brows. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he worried.

Delilah laughed breathlessly. “Oh, Creators no, keep doing exactly what you were doing.” Cullen smiled, then lowered his head to resume. Delilah sighed in satisfaction and wound her fingers into his curls.

Cullen’s mouth dropped to her collarbone, then to her breast to suck and nip on her nipple. His mouth meandered ever lower, pausing here and there to give a languid kiss, before stopping at her hip. A finger looped into the waistband of her pants, and he paused to peek up at her. “May I?” he asked. At Delilah’s nod, he slipped her pants and underclothes both down over her knees and past her ankles before tossing the garment aside without looking where it was going. The ex-templar knelt between her knees, marveling at the sight of her laid bare before him.

Before Delilah could become self-conscious under his attention, he bent down between her thighs. Cullen kissed her mound before going lower, and Delilah was unable to stop a ragged moan from slipping out when his tongue flicked over her bud. His tongue circled her before dipping down to her opening, and circling around it. She reached down and stroked his hair as his head bobbed gently with his motions.

She was almost disappointed when his mouth returned only to her bud, but her sighs of satisfaction were interrupted with a gasp when Cullen began stroking her with his fingers as well. He sucked at her, tongue lapping rhythmically, as he slid first one, then two fingers slowly inside. Delilah squirmed and mewled under his ministrations, simultaneously wanting more to achieve her climax, and wanting it to never end.

A few more moments, and his fingers slid away, as did his mouth. The elf whined in disappointment but when she sat up on her elbows she found her lover had stood and was pushing his pants down. His length sprung free, erect and eager to get wet. Cullen clambered up on the bed and positioned himself above her.

“Wait, let me do something for you too,” Delilah said hastily, gesturing.

“No need,” he murmured. He kissed her hard, and she could taste herself on his lips. “You don’t have to unless you really want to.”

“In that case, never mind,” she chuckled, quietly relieved. She didn’t mind returning the favor, but she had to admit that she was incredibly impatient to get to the good part of all this. They kissed again as Cullen positioned himself at her entrance, and slowly, achingly pushed inside.

They both let out a mutual groan of satisfaction at the sweet friction. Delilah’s fingernails scraped down Cullen’s chest as his hips achieved a steady rhythm; his hands slid up the sides of her neck to cradle her head. He kissed her tenderly as his fingers traced up along the edges of her ears, and Delilah gave an unrestrained whine into his mouth. She felt his lips smile against hers.

An indeterminate amount of time passed like that, each of them doing their best to elicit shivering pleasure from one another, before the heat really began to build in both of their cores. Cullen’s head dipped to bite at her throat again, and she cried out from both pain and pleasure. “C-Cullen,” she stuttered. “If you keep that up I’m going to-” She cut off as he bit again, harder, no doubt leaving vivid purple bruising in his wake.

“Flip over,” he breathed hoarsely against her throat, before he pulled away and slipped out of her. Delilah’s stomach flipped over and the command, but the idea of it sent shivers of anticipation over her. She did as asked, presenting her rear to him. One of his hands slid over her ass, stroking her skin before gripping at her hip. She felt him press against her entrance once again, and groaned raggedly as he slipped easily inside once more.

His movements were far less gentle now. His fingers dug into her skin, bringing her hips back to meet his with a sharp _smack_ each time. The new angle proved to be _very_ pleasurable, and Delilah’s hands scrabbled on the bed before grabbing fistfuls of the sheets. By now she was babbling a constant stream of elven, saying something along the lines of “oh creators, yes Cullen, please more, _harder_ …”

Cullen, who couldn’t possibly know the exact things she was saying besides his own name, seemed to at least get the gist of it. His movements became harsher, more desperate, and his hot breath spilled over Delilah’s back. He kissed the vallaslin that lined her back, following her spine. He leaned over her as his movements became jerky, and her voice rose in pitch as the muscles in her lower abdomen began spasming. She gave a stuttering cry and clenched hard around him as the pleasure burst within her; at the same time, Cullen’s hips jerked hard into her and faltered as he too found his release with a groan.

They stayed like that for a moment, still rocking gently against one another as they rode out their climaxes. Then they slowly relaxed, and Cullen pulled free and collapsed on the bed next to her. Delilah lay still on the mattress, panting hard. Their hands entwined, and Cullen kissed her knuckles softly as they both waited for their heartbeats to slow.

“Well,” Cullen said at length. “That was…”

“Exciting?” Delilah suggested with a smile. The warrior smiled back.

“I was going to say extraordinary,” he replied.

“Better than last time?”

“Exponentially so,” he murmured, and kissed her warmly. She hummed against his lips.

“If it’s so much better on only our second time, imagine how much better it will get in the future,” she chuckled. His smile widened.

“You foresee more of this in our future?”

“Mmmm…I kind of like the way you say ‘our future’,” the elf admitted with a shy smile. Cullen brushed away a strand of her blonde hair that had stuck to the sweat on her forehead.

“It has been…a very long time since I allowed anybody this close,” he admitted in a more serious tone. “I didn’t want anyone this close, especially after what happened at the Circle in Ferelden.” Delilah nodded in understanding. “I didn’t think I could ever come to terms with it enough to allow a relationship, no matter how serious. If I ever daydreamed about my future, I never pictured myself with an elf, let alone a mage. Not that I regret it,” he added hastily. “Maker’s breath, that came out wrong-”

“I know what you meant,” Delilah reassured him. “I didn’t see myself with a human, let alone one who used to be a templar, especially after templars killed my father.”

Cullen propped himself up on an elbow, eyebrows raised in shock. “Your father was killed by templars?” he said incredulously. Delilah grimaced.

“Yes but I…I don’t want to talk about it here,” she said, stroking his stubbled cheek. “I don’t want to ruin the mood.” After a moment, he relented and laid back down with her.

“Back to the original point,” he sighed, “I never thought I’d ever have something this wonderful, like what I’ve found here, with the Inquisition and with you. We’re making a real, tangible difference; not to mention that I am no longer reliant upon lyrium.” Here, his voice tinged with pride, and Delilah smiled.

“I’m glad you’re better,” she said softly. “Seeing you in pain was hard for everybody.”

“I know.” Cullen kissed her forehead before pulling the bedspread up over them both to ward off the chill in the air. Delilah nestled close and laid her head on his shoulder.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow,” she sighed. “Are you sure these Templars won’t just fall off of the edge of the map on their own?”

Cullen’s chuckle rumbled through his chest next to her ear. “I’m fairly certain they won’t,” he replied. “I wish you didn’t have to go, either, but Empress Celene insisted that the Inquisition see to the red templar issue personally, didn’t she?”

“Yes. Josephine is quite insistent as well.” Delilah ran her fingertips lightly through the coppery hairs that spread over his chest. “Speaking of Josephine, she actually lost at Wicked Grace tonight.”

This earned another chuckle. “Oh? Did you finally beat her?”

“No, Bull took the pot.”

“Ah, better luck next time.” Cullen kissed the top of her head and wrapped his other arm around her waist.

“I told Josie that you told me her tells, but she insists that she has none, and that even if she did, you wouldn’t be able to pick up on them,” Delilah said casually. The ex-templar snorted.

“That woman is a liar,” he scoffed. “A skilled diplomat, to be sure, but a liar when it comes to card games.”

Delilah laughed at that. “I’ll be sure to tell her you think so.”

“What, that she’s a liar?”

“No, that she’s a skilled diplomat. That will make her day for sure, that you think so highly of her.”

Cullen _hmph_ ’d into her hair. “Apparently you’re not a bad diplomat yourself. Or is that sneaky twisting of words Lelilana’s influence I hear?”

“Both.”

The lovers chuckled together for a moment before falling silent. Cullen yawned. “Come, it’s late,” he mumbled. His voice was already growing hoarse from exhaustion. “You leave early in the morning, you ought to sleep.”

Conceding that he was right, Delilah simply snuggled closer into the softness of the blanket and the warmth of his embrace.

“Goodnight, vhenas” she murmured.

“Goodnight, Delilah.”


	2. When Clean-up Doesn't Go as Planned

The next morning dawned cold and gray. Delilah and Cullen dressed quickly before the commander kissed her goodbye.

“I’ve got some things to take care of in my office,” he explained. “Don’t worry, I’ll still come see you off. Don’t leave before I see you, alright?”

“Alright,” Delilah promised, amused. “I’ll see you in about an hour, then.” They kissed again, briefly, and then he was gone.

An hour later, everyone’s bags were packed, breakfasts eaten, horses fed and watered, and goodbyes said. Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian all clambered up onto their horses, but Delilah hesitated. Cullen hadn’t yet shown up.

“Are you alright, Inquisitor?” Cassandra called.

“Yes, I was waiting for Cullen,” the mage replied. “He said to wait to leave until he said goodbye.”

“Daylight’s wasting,” Varric remarked.

“I know, I just-”

“Delilah!” She turned to see none other than Cullen himself, jogging towards her. “I’m sorry I’m late, I got tied up with an important report,” he panted.

“It’s alright, you’re here now.” Delilah kissed his cheek. “We were just about to head out.”

“I can tell. Here, this is for you.” He held out a folded piece of paper, with a wax seal bearing the crest of a lion. “Don’t read it until you’re on the road, alright?”

Delilah ignored Varric, Cassandra, and Dorian’s pointed looks behind her, and tucked the note within the first pages of the notebook Cullen had given her inside her pack. “Thank you, vhenas,” she murmured, too low for her companions to hear. “I’ll be sure to return safely to you.”

“You’d better.” He brushed a stray hair behind her ear, then leaned in and kissed her softly. “Safe travels.”

“Dareth shiral,” she murmured back. “See you in three weeks.”

 -----------------------------------------------

One week and four saddle-sore rear ends later, the arid and rocky cliffs of the Western Approach stretched out as far as they could see. An Inquisition scout, garbed in lightweight, sand-colored clothes and armor, jogged up to them. “Inquisitor!” she said formally, giving a brief salute. Her accent was somewhat lilted, placing her home likely somewhere around Starkhaven.  “Welcome back to the Western Approach, as unpleasant as it may be.”

Delilah swung out of the saddle, groaning softly. It had been ages since she’d been on horseback for so much time, so close together. “Thank you, agent…?”

“O’Riley.”

“Thank you, agent O’Riley. Our camp is nearby, right?” The thought of finally being able to really rest somehow made her feet hurt even more.

“Yes ser. The Red Templars’ camp is set up due west of here, next to an old abandoned mineshaft, and we camped a way off, so they wouldn’t detect us. I can show you the way,” O’Riley offered, gesturing. Delilah nodded, and they were off once more.

It was only a short walk to the Inquisition camp. A few other scouts milled about, writing out reports, doing maintenance on armor and weapons, or taking their turn to eat and rest. Delilah, Cassandra, Dorian, and Varric all collapsed gratefully onto the bedrolls already laid out for them under the shade cast by a tarp. Delilah pulled off her boots and wiggled her toes, sighing happily.

“If I never have to ride another horse ever again, it’ll be too soon,” Varric grumbled from her left. On her other side, Cassandra snorted.

“Is it uncomfortable being so high up off the ground?” she taunted.

“Hey, you’re already tall, you’re used to it. It’s a whole other story for me,” the dwarf shot back.

“I, for one, am on Varric’s side on this,” Dorian interjected. He stretched out on his bedroll and sighed. “That saddle is far less comfortable than I’m used to.”

“You have horses in Tevinter?” Delilah asked, curious. The other mage snorted.

“Hardly,” he replied, with a note of haughtiness.

“Oh, do your slaves pull carriages by hand, then?” The elf couldn’t quite keep the bite out of her voice. She loved Dorian dearly, but his blasé attitude towards his country’s reliance upon slave labor still made her skin crawl.

Dorian let out a sigh, not rising to her bait. “No. We do have horses, but we don’t prize them the way Fereldans do, for example. We don’t breed them for specific purposes; if it can walk and pull a cart or a carriage, then that is sufficient.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I see,” she said at last. “That sounds reasonable.” She grimaced, hoping that her silent apology was apparent in her expression. The Tevinter seemed to understand her unspoken apology, because he nodded and smiled a little.

“We like to think it’s reasonable, at least,” Dorian replied. “I know it doesn’t have the significance that the Dalish associate with your halla and landships-”

“Aravels,” Delilah corrected automatically.

“- aravels,” the Tevinter continued, “but it works.”

The sound of approaching feet interrupted them, and they looked up to find scout O’Riley had come back. She pulled back her hood to reveal amber skin and tightly curled black hair pulled away from her face. “Enjoying your rest?” she asked.

“Much,” Delilah said with a smile. “We figure we’d rest for a couple hours and then attack the Red Templar camp at twilight, when they’d likely be relaxed. But if you have any information or suggestions, we’d be glad to hear them.”

O’Riley sat on an empty bedroll across the fire pit from Delilah, and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Well, best we can figure is that there’s about a dozen of them spread throughout their camp,” she explained. “They do have a guard rotation going on, and they’ll be doing a shift change around dinnertime, when the sun gets low. Like you said, that’d be a good time for an attack. If you can get the drop on the two that guard the camp entrance, you should be able to sweep through with little fuss.”

“That sounds too easy,” Cassandra interrupted. “If it’s as simple as you make it sound, why were you scouts unable to take care of them on your own? Why was it required that we personally come wipe them out?”

“Well, I was getting to that,” O’Riley pointed out. “These red templars have been behaving erratically. More so than your average red templar, mind you. We cannae tell why or what it may be, but something has these buggers very agitated.”

“And that interferes with an attack?” Dorian asked.

“Precisely. Just as we think we have their patterns figured out and feel safe to jump in, something tweaks their noses and they get all a-jitter. They’re almost more paranoid than we can be,” the scout admitted. “I figured that Sister Nightingale would order us to jump in anyway, but we offer a strategic observation and reporting point here which I think she doesn’t want to lose. We’re the ones who send the reports from Griffon Wing Keep as well as Adamant Fortress.”

“I understand.” Delilah stood and stretched, groaning as her sore muscles protested the movement. “Would it be alright if at least a couple scouts accompanied us later? I’d feel much more confident about this if we had some backup, in case things get ugly.”

“Of course, Inquisitor. We’ll be there. Just say the word when you’re ready, and we’ll head out together.” O’Riley reached out her hand, and Delilah grasped it gratefully.

“I don’t know about you, but I plan on grabbing a nap,” Varric announced loudly.

“If you snore again as loudly as you did last night, I will magically fuse your mouth shut,” Dorian muttered, only half seriously.

“What was that, Sparkler?”

“Nothing, oh Master Tethras,” the mage said innocently. The dwarf _harrumphed_ , but didn’t press the issue.

Delilah settled back on the bedroll and pulled out a snack ration from her pack. She leaned back, munching, and stared up at the azure sky. Soft, painting-perfect clouds drifted lazily by, and her companions’ chatter slowly lulled her into a doze.

Almost no time later, a hand fell on her shoulder, jerking her awake. Above her hovered Cassandra, her outline haloed by the setting sun. The sky had turned to varying shades of purple and orange with the sunset.

“It’s time,” the warrior said, before offering a hand to help Delilah to her feet. The elf shouldered her heavy staff and adjusted her coat as scout O’Riley approached.

“Are you ready, Your Worship?” the woman asked. Delilah grimaced.

“Please, you don’t have to call me that,” she sighed. “Just Delilah or Inquisitor will do.”

“Yes, Inquisitor. My apologies,” O’Riley apologized. “I’ve got one other agent here who is good to help. The six of us should be more than enough to handle a dozen templars, don’t you think?”

“I mean, we’ve taken on a half-dozen high dragons with just the four of us and survived, so I’d rather hope so,” Delilah said mildly. Behind her, Varric and Dorian snickered.

“Scout Murray, at your pleasure.” The man held out his hand, and Delilah shook it. His voice was soft, and he had a very young-looking face, but the steely glint in his eye seemed to say he had more experience and fire in him than his boyish features would suggest.

“Lead the way to the Templar camp,” Cassandra instructed.

“Aye, my lady.”

The walk to the Red Templar encampment was brief and quiet. Scout O’Riley waved them over to a rock shelf that would shield them from view; below, they could see the entire camp laid out. Two red templars stood guard at the camp entrance. Behind them, a handful of tents scattered around a small campfire and cooking pot. A couple red templars milled about, but most of them appeared to be in the tents. One of them, a giant of a man who appeared to be the one in charge, went around, issuing orders here and there. Even at fifty paces, the sheer amount of tainted lyrium flowing in their blood made Delilah’s skin prickle.

Her eyes skimmed the camp, noting the locations of each red templar. Two at the gate, four sitting and eating, the commander pacing around, two sitting and writing… at least three had to be in the tents, then.

Delilah turned to her companions. “Varric, you take out the sentries,” she said in a hushed tone. “That’ll let us get in somewhat undetected. Dorian and I will do some long-ranged attacks to stun and disable. Cassandra, while they’re reeling, I want you to charge in and take out as many of them as you can while Dorian and Varric cover your back. Scouts O’Riley and Murray will keep an eye on the perimeter to stop any nasty surprises, as well as provide backup in case it’s too much for us to handle. Sound good?” Once everybody had nodded their agreement, Delilah gestured towards the sentries. “Alright, Varric, at your leisure.”

“It would be my absolute pleasure,” the dwarf replied. He shouldered his admittedly impressive crossbow, Bianca. He peered down the sights for a heartbeat, then squeezed the trigger.

One of the sentries clutched at his chest where Delilah could faintly see the red feather-fletched end of the bolt sticking out. The other sentry had just turned to see what the commotion was when the second bolt struck him in the neck. Two muted thuds later, the entrance was clear.

They approached quickly and silently, Cassandra at the front.  They stepped over the dead red templar sentries and crept between the tents. Delilah, Dorian, and Varric hung back, and the two mages held their staves at the ready. At Delilah’s nod, she and Dorian attacked.

Deafening, crackling lightning arched through the center of the camp, striking every red templar in the area. They barely had time to stiffen and cry out before billowing, white-hot flames erupted forth. “Go!” Delilah shouted. Cassandra charged; the flames parted to allow her past, and two of the red templars fell at her feet without even lifting their swords. Crossbow bolts whizzed past, peppering the remaining red templars.

Two of them flanked Delilah. Their eyes looked hollowed out, their minds and bodies consumed by the corrupted red lyrium they had either been tricked or tempted into taking. With their swords raised menacingly, they backed her up against a tent. Her mind raced for a solution. She glanced again at the tent to her back, and something in her mind clicked.

“Hey!” she taunted, shouting above the din. “Corypheus sucks nug dick!”

Without waiting for a reply, she dove inside the tent. Behind her, the red templars bellowed in fury and followed. With a quick prayer to the Creators that this would work, she cast a shield around herself. At the same time she sent out a shockwave of heat and energy. Everything within a three meter range burst into flame; the two red templars included. They fell, screaming, as their now cherry-red armor sizzled against their skin.

Delilah stood, panting, as her barrier faded away. Cassandra finished off the last templar as she watched.

“Is that all of them?” Varric asked.

“I believe so,” Cassandra panted. She wiped the blood from her sword on one of the dead red templar’s skirt, then sheathed it. “That wasn’t terribly difficult.”

“Might make for a less than gripping report to Sister Nightingale,” scout Murray remarked as he and O’Riley reappeared, “but a red templar killed simply is just as good in my books as a red templar killed extravagantly.”

“True,” scout O’Riley agreed. She approached a table that the red templars had set up, and began rifling through the papers that covered the surface. “That explosion that you pulled off, Inquisitor, was quite impressive, if I might say.”

Delilah peered over the woman’s shoulder to see what was going on. “What’s it all say?”

O’Riley hummed thoughtfully. “Looks like they were investigating and trying to mine in the area under orders from Samson,” she replied. “Apparently they didn’t find anything in particular, but there’s something about red templars ending up acting erratically in the area. That matches our reports. This one is an order to call off the mining, and return to the main force.” She straightened. “They hadn’t found anything conclusive, from the looks of these reports, but this one here mentions a mine in the area where the effect seemed strongest.”

“Something to investigate?” Dorian piped up.

“Possibly. Our only mission was to eradicate this templar encampment, and we have,” Delilah sighed tiredly. She raised her eyes to the rapidly darkening sky; the sun was fully below the horizon, and the vibrant oranges and pinks were beginning to fade. “We can stop by in the morning before we leave for Skyhold.”

At that moment, the earth trembled beneath their feet. A deep rumbling filled the air, and Delilah and Cassandra’s eyes met in surprise; and then it was gone.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Varric demanded.

“Felt like an earthquake,” Murray supplied. “Not real common, but they happen sometimes. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“They’re almost unheard of this far south, though,” Delilah replied. “Red templars investigating and mining some random area of a desert wasteland, and then suddenly an earthquake happens here? I’m not one to believe in coincidences.”

“I suppose we need to investigate that abandoned mineshaft after all,” O’Riley suggested.

“I think you’re right,” Delilah agreed.

The mine was only a short walk away, surrounded by old mining equipment.  While the rest of the group fanned out, Delilah leaned over the edge of the rail to peer down into the mineshaft. The bottom of the hole was swallowed in darkness.

“What kind of excavation could the red templars have been doing here?” Dorian wondered. He knelt and picked up a discarded scrap of armor, likely from a shoulder plate. “Whatever they were doing, they must have left in quite a hurry.”

“They could have left whenever Corypheus called them to attack Haven,” Cassandra suggested.

“It’s certainly possible, but it’s been a year since the attack,” Delilah pointed out. “Those footprints make it look like they were here recently. I’m not seeing any clues as to what they were digging for, however. Not even the usual cart of raw red lyrium we normally find at these camps.”

Scout O’Riley kicked open a chest and rifled through it. “Aha! A log book. Let’s see what our tainted-lyrium addled fools were out here doing.”

Delilah stepped back and idly wandered over to the wooden walkway that extended all the way across the top of the mineshaft. A moment later, O’Riley called out.

“Found a note that wasn’t part of the original log book. Looks a lot older, if you ask me. ‘So close. We nearly reached him. Made it down to what looked like a dwarven thaig where the song was actually audible, real and thrumming through the air, not just in our heads’,” the scout read aloud. “’It rattled through the lyrium pillars and shook the earth beneath our feet to its dreadful tempo. We lost thirty men in the last cave-in, and the Warden-Commander is abandoning the mission. I tried to argue for one last push, but the rock is too unstable down there. We’ll have to find another Archdemon somewhere more solid.’”

“Archdemon?” scout Murray repeated. “You don’t mean an _archdemon_ archdemon, do you?”

“As opposed to a chantry sister archdemon?” Varric suggested.

The scout waved a hand dismissively. “You know what I meant! If there’s an archdemon down in that hole, that explains what gray wardens were doing here so long ago, but how does that relate to the red templars?”

“Corypheus _did_ ensnare the wardens in his plot, if you’ll remember,” Dorian reminded them. “But I feel the same, I fail to see any connection besides that. This note looks far too old to be related to our current predicament.”

Delilah looked over the edge of the walkway, into the dark depths of the mine. Could there actually be an archdemon down there? Her clan had been very far north during the Blight a decade ago, but the idea of a winged monstrosity bursting forth with a horde of darkspawn at its heel was enough to make her skin prickle.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter how it’s related,” O’Riley piped up. “The red templar camp is cleared out, mission accomplished.”

“You could be right,” Delilah sighed. “Still, it would’ve been nice to know so I could properly fill out a report. Be sure to pack the logbook and the note, we might still get some information out of-”

“Inquisitor look out!”

She turned to see Cassandra, fifteen paces away with a desperate look on her face. At the end of the ramp, sword in hand and a malicious look in his reddened eyes, was none other than the red templar commander that they’d seen in the templars’ camp earlier. Without thinking, Delilah hefted her staff from her back and held it in front of her, crouching defensively.

“I thought you were dead!” she exclaimed.

“Not yet,” the templar replied with a hollow chuckle, “but soon we both will be.” He raised his sword and charged with a snarl. Delilah blocked the blow with the center of her staff, but staggered; the blow felt at least five times heavier than anybody she’d fought yet.

Behind the templar, everybody rushed forward to help. They’d barely stepped onto the walkway, however, when the red templar pulled back from his attack and bashed his sword at the wooden planks beneath their feet. His extraordinary strength shattered the beams, and the walkway shuddered at the blow.

Realization struck Delilah like lightning. “Run!” she cried. “It’s going to-”

A resounding _CRACK_ echoed off the rocks as the ramp’s supporting beams snapped and pulled away from the mine-shaft walls. The ramp swayed, then folded in upon itself. Everything almost seemed in slow motion; the crazed templar in front of her, his watery eyes wide not with fear but satisfaction; the walkway falling away from under her feet; all of her companions falling too, their faces filling with shock and fear as they realized their peril. The walls of the mine-shaft rose until the sky felt far away indeed. Delilah, the templar, Cassandra, Dorian, Varric, and Scout Murray; one and all were swallowed up in the darkness.


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole

The first thing Delilah became aware of was the horrible pounding in her head; it felt as if someone was hammering a six inch nail directly above her right eye. The second thing was a deep, burning pain in her left shoulder that in the back of her mind she knew had to be trouble. The third thing was that the surface she was lying on was hard, cold, and uneven.

She opened her eyes. Far above her was a dim little indigo disc of light - the evening sky. A shuffling noise to the right made her turn her head. It was too dark to make anything out, but someone was definitely there. Delilah jerked upright, adrenaline dumping into her veins, but fell back with a choked scream.

Her shoulder felt as if it were ablaze. The joint burned and throbbed in time to her heartbeat and involuntary tears welled up and slid down her cheeks.

“Delilah?”

The elf stilled at her name. She’d recognize that accent anywhere. “Cassandra!” she whimpered. “I’m here. Oh Creators-”

There was more shuffling, growing closer until Cassandra’s hand found her unhurt arm. Their hands clasped briefly.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“My shoulder, my left shoulder,” Delilah breathed. “I moved and it feels like someone stuck a dagger in it.” Their eyes must’ve been adjusting to the near-nonexistent light, because she could faintly see the warrior’s outline as she moved.

 “Let me see,” Cassandra offered. She carefully examined the elf’s shoulder in the dim light. Delilah whimpered when the warrior’s fingers gently probed the joint.

“It’s dislocated,” the Nevarran sighed. “It’s going to have to be popped back into place.”

“Will it hurt much?”

“Yes,” Cassandra replied simply. “But it will feel much better as soon as I’ve finished. Just lay there and try to relax, and I’ll fix it.” She took Delilah’s hand and very slowly extended the arm. The elf let out an involuntary hiss of pain, but gritted her teeth against it.

Cassandra pressed her boot against Delilah’s ribs and pressed firmly. At the same time, she gently but inexorably began pulling on the mage’s arm. Delilah whimpered in agony and her free hand scrabbled uselessly against the stone underneath her as the bone scraped slowly backward. Several seconds passed, stretching out into a few minutes. Suddenly, there was an audible _pop_ , and she cried out as the bone slid back into place and blessedly, the pain was nearly gone again.

“There,” Cassandra sighed, sounding satisfied. “How does it feel?”

“Much better.” Delilah sat up and groaned. “It’s still tender, but it is much better than before. Where are the others? Dorian, Varric-”

“We’re here,” came Varric’s voice from the darkness. A flame flickered to life in Dorian’s hand, illuminating the mage and the rogue. They were both filthy with dust, and both sported scratches and bruises, but seemed otherwise uninjured. Murray limped into the light as well, bleeding from a scrape on his cheek.

“Where’s O’Riley? She was right behind me,” Murray asked. “I don’t see her anywhere down here.”

“Maybe she didn’t fall in,” Cassandra suggested.

Delilah stood and brushed dust off her coat and armor. “It’s likely, since she’s not down here. Where’s that templar?”

“Found him,” Varric said somberly. Delilah turned to see him standing over the red templar’s body. Upon closer inspection, she found that a long shard of the wooden ramp had pierced his side and protruded from the other side, drenched deep red. His reddened eyes stared blindly forth, his last scream still etched upon his face. Everyone seemed to give a collective shudder of horror.

“Well,” Dorian said eventually, “at least he won’t have to worry about being turned into living lyrium at the end of his life.”

“Comforting, Dorian,” Delilah sighed. He shrugged in response. She turned and examined their surroundings. Beneath their feet was a stone road; pillars rose along the walls to support a high ceiling, and everything was covered with meticulously-carved runes and designs. “I believe we’ve fallen into the Deep Roads. It’s a miracle we’re still alive, really.”

“This section must run close to the surface,” Varric remarked. “Andraste’s tits, after the bullshit that happened in the Deep Roads with Hawke ten years ago, and then again recently with Bianca, I’d hoped to never return to the Deep Roads again.”

“If I’d known we’d end up down in this darkspawn infested hole, I’d never have agreed to come along with you,” Dorian agreed. Delilah and Cassandra both rolled their eyes.

“If we knew this was going to happen, I believe we would’ve all been sure to stay away from the mine in the first place,” the warrior said condescendingly.

“I almost wish Blackwall were here,” Varric remarked. “He’d at least be good for telling us whenever darkspawn were approaching.”

“Well, it seems safe enough for the moment. Perhaps we ought to make camp as best as we can, and set out in the morning?” Murray suggested. “We’ll set up watch rounds, try and come up with a way out.”

“He’s right,” Delilah agreed. “We need rest, and at the moment there’s no way to get back up the way we came. And honestly, I need a little time to let my shoulder heal up,” she added sheepishly.

“It’s fine,” Cassandra reassured her. “I can take first watch. Who should I have take over for me?”

“I’ll do it,” Murray volunteered. Cassandra nodded.

“I’ll stay up with you,” Delilah added. “I’m not sleepy yet.”

Setting up camp was somewhat difficult without any tents or bedrolls, and on solid rock, but they made it work. Shrapnel from the collapsed walkway was piled up and lit for a fire, and everyone balled up whatever clothes they could spare to use for a pillow.

Delilah stared up at the now deep indigo snatch of sky far above them. A single star was visible, and she found herself aching for nights spent under the stars with her clan, when she and her best friend Lilie would spend hours making up constellations from the millions of distant flecks of light. Around her, she could hear Dorian, Varric, and Murray making themselves as comfortable as was possible in this situation. Soon, things quieted down, and Delilah found herself digging through her pack for any food.

She ticked her fingers over her various possessions; extra socks, a small bottle of blue lyrium, a bundle of herbs, wrapped writing charcoal, the notebook Cullen had given her. A piece of folded paper poked out of the side, and she pulled on it experimentally. It slid out easily, and she unfolded it to find it was a letter.

“What’s that?” Cassandra asked quietly.

“It’s…Cullen gave me this, just before we left,” Delilah replied distantly. “I’d completely forgotten about it. He said to only read it once we were safely on the road out of Skyhold.” She continued reading the letter to herself.

My dearest Delilah,

When I first met you I wasn’t in a place mentally to be able to commit into a relationship. You knew this and you were unendingly patient, and you waited for me to come to terms with my own demons. You even helped me conquer some of them yourself, when your kind and undeserved words gave me the strength to step free of the shackles of lyrium. For that, I am eternally indebted to you.

And now, a year and a half after we met on the battlefield among the chaos left in the wake of the explosion of the Conclave, here we are in a real, honest relationship.

I know you mentioned that your father died at Templar hands, and I can only imagine that your reaction to Templars following that must have been very similar to my own reaction to mages following the overthrowing of Ferelden’s Circle Tower by Uldred. Just as I overcame my fear and prejudice of mages with your help, I can only hope that I have helped assuage your own trepidation of Templars and humans. When it comes to you and I on a personal level, that appears to be the case, and I thank the Maker every day that you’re willing and even eager to see me on a daily basis. I am indeed a lucky man.

The point of this letter isn’t simply to thank you for your soothing presence and influence. Last night was absolutely incredible, better than I ever dreamed would be possible. I wanted to say this afterwards, but we got talking and then you fell asleep before I had the chance. So here it is: I love you. I’ve loved you for quite a while, since before I gave you my lucky coin, since our first rushed kiss out on that battlement. I love you. Please come safely back to us. We need you…I need you.

Eternally yours, Cullen.

“Oh Creators,” Delilah said faintly. Dimly, she heard Cassandra shuffle over.

“Are you alright?” the warrior probed, clearly concerned. “Delilah, what is it?”

The elf clasped the letter to her chest to keep the Nevarran from peeking at it. Color flooded her cheeks. “I…it’s nothing!”

Cassandra crossed her arms. “If you do not wish to tell me, I will respect that, but you really ought to know that you are a horrible liar.”

Delilah peered down at the paper once more, flushing a deeper red. Despite herself, she felt her lips tip upwards in a smile. “It’s…from Cullen,” she confessed in a hushed voice. “He, um, he said that he loves me.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened, and her face split in a genuine smile. “Oh, Delilah, that’s wonderful!” she gushed, and the elf shushed her.

“Not so loudly!” She reread the last lines. “’I love you. Please come safely back to us. We need you…I need you.’”

Cassandra sighed happily. “So romantic.” Delilah shushed her again, but without any real energy behind it. “Well, do you love him in return?”

“I…” The elf stared down at the letter again.

“Why the hesitation?”

Delilah let out a long sigh, and her shoulders slumped. “My father was slain by Templars,” she confessed. “They saw him do a little magic, I don’t even know what, and they killed him. They didn’t attempt to take him to the Circle, they didn’t even _talk_ to him. They slew him on the spot. And for a long, long time afterwards, I hated templars. I hated humans. I hated that they’d taken away my only remaining blood relation. My clan _is_ my family, but to be connected to someone by your own flesh and blood, and to have that forcibly taken from you…”

Cassandra’s hand fell upon her uninjured shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “I understand,” she said softly.

“Anyway, when I first found out that Cullen used to be a Templar, I couldn’t help but be wary of him, you know?” Delilah continued after a moment. “But time passed and I found myself thinking more and more about him. And now we’ve-” She cut herself off and gave a cough, cheeks reddening once more. “Well, we know each other _very_ well by now.”

Cassandra nodded, smiling. “So the question remains, do you love him in return?”

Delilah’s eyes dropped to her hands, which fiddled with the edges of the paper. After a moment, she nodded. “Yes, I do,” she confessed softly. “I care about him a great deal.”

Cassandra sat back with a satisfied smile. “Then I would say your path is clear.”

“What do you mean?”

“You two are already in a relationship, you’ve taken several steps together, _and_ you both love each other. If you are comfortable enough with him to have come this far together, then I would say it is time to simply…relax into it. I don’t presume to tell you how you and he ought to be, but it seems you have something wonderful that should be enjoyed, not skirted around,” the warrior explained.

Delilah smiled at her friend. “You know what? You’re completely right,” she sighed. She waved a hand at their surroundings. “Clearly anything could happen to any of us at any time. It’s foolish to waste the opportunities given to you.” A thought seemed to strike her, and she dug through her pack again. She pulled out a scrap of paper and her charcoal pencils, and began scribbling. “Cassandra…I need you to do me a favor.”

“Name it.”

“I’m...going to give this…to Cullen…when I return.” Delilah spoke haltingly, writing as she spoke. “I want to…give it to him…myself. But If I…don’t make it…for some reason…” She finished writing and folded the paper, then turned and met Cassandra’s eyes again. “If I don’t make it back to Skyhold, I’d like you to give it to him.” She held out the letter to the warrior, her face set in determination.

“Of course,” Cassandra agreed without hesitation. She took it and tucked it safely into her own pack. “You _will_ make it back to Skyhold, of course. Do not doubt that. But you have my word that it will reach him at the end of this, regardless of the cost.”

Delilah smiled in gratitude. “Thank you, Cassandra.”

“Anything, dear friend,” the warrior replied. “You only ever need ask. You ought to get some rest, you’ll need your strength in the morning, I’m sure.”

The elf yawned. “You’re right,” she agreed. She slipped her coat off and bundled it up, using it as a pillow. She stared once more up at the darkening disk that was the sky far above them, and very slowly she dropped off into an uneasy sleep.

An indeterminate amount of time later, she found herself being shaken awake by Dorian. “Come on, it’s morning,” he said. His normally impeccable hair was mussed, and she chuckled tiredly at the sight.

Cassandra and Varric were already up, and apparently deep in discussion on how to escape. Delilah stood and cautiously rotated her left arm around. Her shoulder was sore, and likely would be for several more days, but useable. Satisfied, she pulled on her coat and began strapping her armor back on.

“I’m telling you, Seeker, there’s no way to know which way will lead to an exit,” Varric was saying. “For all you know either one of them may stretch off to the end of Thedas. Equally possible is the fact that the section we’re in could be totally closed off by cave-ins, and we’re trapped down here.”

“Being trapped does not mean it is inescapable,” Cassandra retorted. “You’ve spent more time in the Deep Roads than anybody else here, surely you must have _some_ insight.”

“If you’re talking about the time I went on the expedition with Hawke, you’ll remember we had gray warden maps, as well as a bona fide gray warden with us,” Varric reminded her. “And Anders is the only reason any of us, especially Carver, got out of that blighted darkspawn-infested hole at all.”

“I understand.” She gave a sigh of frustration. “But we cannot simply sit here and wait to be rescued.”

“Cassandra’s right,” Delilah interjected. She sat next to the two with a grunt. “It appears that O’Riley stayed on the surface by some luck, but by time any help arrives, we’ll have died of dehydration or starved.”

“You’re very cheerful this morning,” Varric remarked.

Delilah shrugged. “Just being practical. You know it’s all true.”

“Yes, but I don’t have to like it.”

The elf stood and brushed off her pants. “Well, since we don’t have maps, we might as well just pick a route and hope it works.”

“Pick a route and hope it works?” Dorian repeated incredulously.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Well…no.”

“Then let’s get going,” Delilah commanded.

 

Two hours passed, and they didn’t seem to be any closer to anything resembling an exit. The road had no branches, no forks, no intersections. It just stretched dimly into the distance, fading into a dark red haze, illuminated only by the low red glowing stone in the pillars, as well as the torches in Murray and Dorian’s hands. Another two hours later, with no apparent progress, Cassandra stopped.

“Inquisitor, we ought to rest,” she suggested. “This appears to be getting us nowhere.”

Delilah let out a breath. “Then let’s rest,” she agreed. Everyone sat with groans of relief. She and Cassandra sat off a ways, to speak privately.

“Delilah, what’s the plan here?” the warrior asked. “We cannot simply just keep walking until our feet rot out from underneath us.”

“I know, I know,” the mage sighed. “I just don’t see any other option. We’re officially in over our heads here.”

“I agree.”

The unfamiliar voice made the two women jump. Delilah and Cassandra bolted to their feet, weapons drawn and ready. Standing before them was a woman, clad in gray warden armor with a crossbow slung over her back and a sword as well as a dagger belted at her waist. A blue fur-lined cloak was clasped at her throat, and her silvery-blonde hair was pinned back away from her pale face. Behind her was a similarly dressed, black-haired dwarf woman with black tattoos all over her face, as well as a young redheaded man in warden armor as well, with a staff strapped to his back.

“Who in Creators’ names are you?” Delilah demanded. Behind her, she heard the soft _click-click-click_ as Varric readied his crossbow, Bianca.

“Warden-Commander Cousland,” the first woman stated. She gestured behind her at her companions. “Warden Sigrun, Warden Finn. Who’re you?”

“Wardens?” Murray whispered loudly. “Maybe they know what was going on with the red templars.”

“Inquisitor Delilah Lavellan,” Delilah said, ignoring the scout. “My companions are Cassandra Pentaghast, Varric Tethras, Dorian Pavus, and Inquisition agent scout Murray.” She gestured at each of her companions in turn.

The warden-commander’s eyebrows raised. “Inquisitor? Didn’t I exchange letters with your people some months ago?”

“I believe so.”

“Yes, right. Is Leliana still well?”

“Yes, she-”

“Cousland!” Varric interrupted suddenly. Both women turned to him. He pointed at the warden, and his eyes lit up with glee. “Warden Cousland! I _knew_ that I know that name from somewhere.”

“While we’re still young, Varric,” Cassandra said bitingly.

“Cousland was the name of the _Hero of Ferelden_ ,” Varric expounded. Delilah’s eyes returned to the woman.

“You’re the Hero of Ferelden?” she repeated, astonished. “The one who ended the Blight before it truly began? Saved the town of Redcliffe from certain doom?” The warden-commander shrugged.

“Some people call me that,” she replied disinterestedly. “I generally just go by Warden Castielle. Cas, to my friends.”

“But not Cassie,” the dwarf warden, Sigrun, piped up. Castielle rolled her eyes.

“You are fully aware that only two people have ever been allowed to call me that. One of them is dead and the other is all the way up in Weisshaupt,” she replied pointedly.

“Why are you people even here?” the mage, Finn, asked. “Normally only wardens are this far out into the Deep Roads.”

“We’re not here by choice,” Murray explained. “We fell down a mineshaft and ended up trapped down here. We were killing a group of red templars when it happened.”

“You know, not to take advantage of you being wardens and all,” Varric began, “but we happen to be in desperate need of knowledge of the Deep Roads. Specifically, how to _get out_.”

Castielle hummed thoughtfully, sizing them up. An idea seemed to strike her, and a gleam entered her eyes.

“We’re gonna help, right?” Sigrun piped up.

“Yes,” Castielle sighed. “Maker, I’m getting too old for rescue missions like this.”

“Great,” Delilah said, relieved, “so you’ll lead us to the surface?”

“Yeees,” the warden commander drew out. “If-”

“If?” repeated Cassandra incredulously.

“ _If_ …you’ll help me with my problem first.” Castielle crossed her arms. “I’m a little short on manpower due to cave-ins, and I have a mission that I absolutely must complete.”

“What is it?” Delilah asked cautiously.

Castielle raised an eyebrow. “Kill an archdemon.”


	4. Hero Talk

Delilah’s eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. “An…archdemon,” she repeated slowly.

The warden turned to her companions in exasperation. “Am I mumbling? Yes, an archdemon,” she quipped. “We wardens know that one of them is imprisoned in the area. We’ve been ordered here to kill it if we can, to prevent one of two possible more Blights.”

“Haven’t we already dealt with wardens who wanted to storm the Deep Roads and kill the last archdemons by means of blood magic?” Dorian interjected. “We stormed Adamant Fortress and everything for it. Is it possible this is that same problem?”

“The nightmare demon is slain,” Cassandra reminded him. “If these wardens are here for the same purpose, it is of their own volition.”

“Look, we heard about Adamant Fortress, so I understand your concerns,” Castielle said brusquely. “But all three of us weren’t even on the continent at the time, so it didn’t affect us. I’m going to be frank with you: we’re trying to find a cure for the Calling, and we’re going to test it by getting close to a live archdemon. Regardless of if this cure works, we’re going to attempt to slay the archdemon before it can rise and risk Thedas once more. But as I said, we’re short on manpower. We can’t do it alone.”

“Cave-ins have killed most of our company,” Finn added. “We brought fifteen wardens down here, and it’s just us three left.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Sigrun finished.

Delilah crossed her arms, lost in thought. She turned to peer at her companions. Catching sight of her thoughtful expression, Varric sputtered indignantly.

“Don’t tell me you’re considering it!” he said vehemently.

“Varric-”

“They’re going after a bloody archdemon that’s still asleep and safely trapped miles underground! Andraste’s tits, Sunny, that’s the most foolhardy plan I’ve ever heard, and I was close friends with Hawke for nearly a decade!” he ranted, jabbing a finger to accentuate his point.

“It’s not so ridiculous an idea,” Delilah replied defensively. “Besides, at the moment, we don’t have much choice but to agree to their terms and help them. The wardens are the ones who know the Deep Roads the best. I’m sure they have a map to the exits, right?” The question was directed at Castielle, who raised a single perfect blonde eyebrow.

“Of course we have a map,” she scoffed. She reached into her pack and pulled out a folded, dingy piece of paper. “We’d hardly be the most successful wardens if we didn’t.”

“I still don’t like it,” Cassandra jumped in, “but as there is no apparent blood magic nor mind-controlling nightmare demons involved, and as there does not seem to be a better option, I believe we should agree to go with her.”

“She’s right,” Dorian agreed. “Let’s help her and get out of this horrid place once and for all.”

“I still don’t like it,” Varric grumbled. “But…we don’t have much of a choice.”

“I’ll follow you, Inquisitor, whatever you decide,” scout Murray clarified.

Delilah nodded, mulling over it all for a moment. “Alright,” she sighed at length. She turned back to face Castielle, who met her gaze steadily. “We’ll do it. Where _is_ this archdemon of yours, anyway?”

For the first time, the warden commander allowed herself a small, smirking smile. “I’m glad you see reason,” she said, holding her hand out. “You have my promise as warden-commander that I will help you all to the surface as soon as our mission is completed.”

Delilah clasped hands with her. The human and the elf held each other’s gaze for a moment, Castielle’s pewter gray eyes to Delilah’s forest green, then released their hands. “I guess I’m stuck with you,” Delilah half-joked. The Warden’s mouth quirked a little.

“Only for a little while, at least,” she replied. “Come on, we ought to get going. We only brought limited food supplies. But cave-ins killing most of my company had one good result – we were able to get at the packs of some of those who died, and salvage their supplies.”

The group began heading down the road once more. Castielle led, as she had the map. Delilah caught up to the warden, eyeing her warily. “I heard you saved the elven clan in the Brecilian forest,” the elf probed.

“It’s not like I didn’t have any help,” the rogue replied. “Alistair and Morrigan were with me, along with my mabari Kitty.” Her voice softened at the mention of her warhound.

Behind them, Varric let out a short laugh. “Kitty? Seriously?”

Castielle pinned him with a stare. “Got a problem with my dog’s name?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Not at all! I’m just surprised. Hawke’s mabari was named Kitty too, that’s all.”

“Hawke?”

“Champion of Kirkwall?” Castielle met the dwarf’s explanation with a blank stare. “Friends with Anders, the mage who caused the chantry explosion and accelerated the mage-templar war?”

“Anders?” Sigrun piped up. “Our Anders?”

“You knew him?” Now Varric sounded surprised.

“Yeah, he was under my command at Amaranthine several years ago,” Castielle explained. “You met him? And _he_ was the one who blew up the chantry?”

“Oh yeah, it was…not pretty,” Varric said. “That man has a lot of issues. I don’t know where he is and I don’t want to know, but I hope wherever he is, that he’s getting help. Possession by a spirit aside, he’s by-and-large a good man.”

“Possession of a spirit?” Finn said incredulously. “He’s an abomination?”

“Yeah, he let in a spirit of Justice and last I saw it was nearly destroying him,” Varric explained heavily.

“Justice?” Now it was Sigrun’s turn once more to be surprised. “Was this _our_ Justice?”

“ _Your_ Justice?” Dorian laughed. “What, you were friends with a demon?”

Castielle and Sigrun shared a brief, uncomfortable glance. “Well…” the dwarf started.

“You _were!?”_ Cassandra sputtered.

“To be fair, we’ve basically adopted Cole, a spirit of compassion, into our group,” Delilah said mildly. Cassandra glared at her.

“Cole did not cause someone to put a bomb in a chantry and kill hundreds of people,” the warrior said pointedly.

“Very true,” Varric agreed somberly.

“ _Anyway_ , Anders is possessed?” Castielle prompted Varric. He nodded.

“Yes.  I take it he and Justice met under your command?” he asked.

“Yes. I was wary of taking on a spirit into our company, especially considering we were really trying to recruit wardens and you can’t exactly make a spirit possessing a dead body into a warden, but he was trapped outside of the Fade and seemed sincere in his desire to help,” the warden explained. “I find it hard to believe that Anders allowed Justice to possess him, or that Justice would even agree to such an arrangement. Both of them seemed much smarter than that to me.”

“Desperation will do that to a person, I suppose,” Varric sighed.

At the back of the group, scout Murray let out a low whistle. “You all sure do meet some interesting people in your travels.”

Delilah chuckled tiredly. “You have no idea.”

They continued down the stone road, and eventually, the conversation turned to Varric and Castielle comparing their crossbows.

“She’s designed so you can cut reloading time in half, and it pulls the drawstring back automatically,” Varric explained proudly. “Bianca here is a wonder of modern engineering.”

Castielle jerked her thumb back at her own crossbow. “This one took down the archdemon Urthemiel in the Battle of Denerim.”

The dwarf huffed, looking put out. “Well that’s just cheating.” The warden commander chuckled.

“If it makes you feel better, it didn’t give the killing blow,” she explained. “My family sword did that one.” She patted the hilt of the sword at her hip.

“That…actually does make me feel better,” Varric admitted.

“The archdemon you took down, didn’t you do it with the help of the gray warden Alistair? And Morrigan?” Delilah jumped in. “I met Morrigan at the Winter Palace.”

“Yes,” Castielle said thoughtfully. “And Zevran as well. I miss that elf. Tried to assassinate me once, and we were best friends ever since. You know, the last I’d heard from Alistair, my husband, he was going back to Ferelden to aid your Inquisition. He’d said he was going to storm Adamant Fortress with you all, and I haven’t heard anything from since.” The warden stopped and pinned the elf with an icy stare. “Why is that, you think?”

Everyone’s eyes seemed to be on Delilah. In that moment, she thanked every single Creator and anybody else listening that, when pressed with the decision of who should remain in the Fade to allow the others to escape, she had decided that Hawke would remain behind. She raised her hands in surrender. “The last _I_ saw of him, he was perfectly fine! Tired and dirty, perhaps, but alive and well. He said he was heading to Weisshaupt to tell the other wardens what had happened. I’m sure that as soon as you finish your mission here and go back, he’ll be waiting for you.” She smiled weakly.

Castielle considered her explanation for a long moment before nodding and seeming to accept it. “Very well,” she said, turning and continuing walking. She pulled the map out once more and consulted it briefly. “We’re getting close to a junction. Come on.”

Behind her, Delilah pressed a hand briefly over her heart and sighed. Dorian’s hand fell upon her shoulder, and she turned to see him giving her a smirk. “Well, it looks like you don’t have to agonize anymore over whether you made the right decision or not,” he chuckled.

“I could swear that I just saw my life flash before my eyes,” Delilah muttered. His hand squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before he began following after everybody else. She straightened, and resumed walking too.

Besides that conversation, the most exciting thing that happened that day was turning left at a large junction between two of the roads. They all bedded down for the night along an unexceptionally ordinary stretch of the Deep Roads. Halfway through Delilah’s watch shift, however, a sudden soft noise made her jump.

She turned to see that all three gray wardens had woken. Castielle stood, staring off in the distance.

“What is it?” Delilah asked in a hushed tone.

“Darkspawn,” Finn answered. His already pale face had gone even paler under his freckles. Behind them, Cassandra and Dorian sat up, woken by the talking. “Not many, really, but even one is just plain too much to deal with, in my opinion.”

“Why did you join the gray wardens, again?” Sigrun teased, already unsheathing her daggers. Cassandra woke Varric and Murray, who both stood and drew their weapons. From the darkness ahead came low shuffling noises, along with a single shivering screech which hung in the air like a foul odor.

“If you ever find out, let me know,” Finn replied as the first darkspawn shuffled into the firelight. Behind it, about a dozen beady eyes reflected yellow back at them. Delilah had fought darkspawn before, certainly, but something about the abomination of a creature lurching at them from the depths of the earth, with rotted skin and jagged, razor sharp teeth, sent shivers of horror all across her body.

“Keep your mouth shut while you fight,” Castielle warned hastily as she drew her sword. “Don’t let them scratch you. If you get blood in your mouth, spit it out immediately.”

The darkspawn gave a chilling scream and charged forward, its rusted sword raised high above its head. Castielle and Sigrun both leapt forward to cut it off.

Delilah and Dorian began firing off spells immediately. The bolts flew past the first darkspawn to land among the dozen or so behind it; fireballs bloomed forward and electricity arched between the rancid bodies, dropping them like flies. Finn joined them, casting barriers and healing any injuries he saw almost before they happened.  Cassandra leapt into the fray, cutting down the beasts with her usual fury. Murray wasn’t far behind, unsheathing a couple of daggers from his waist.

It didn’t take more than a couple minutes, but soon every single darkspawn lay dead. Delilah rolled her left arm and winced; her shoulder still ached from being dislocated, and the sudden fight had aggravated it. Castielle came over, wiping black blood absentmindedly from the length of her blade.

“Is everyone alright?” she called.

“Everyone’s alive and uninjured,” Dorian replied.

“Good. Let’s go ahead and get moving, then, since we’re all wide awake now,” Castielle sighed.

“Not many ‘spawn out right now,” Sigrun remarked. “You think this place would be crawling with them, what with that archdemon nearby.”

“Maybe the rumblings are scaring them off,” Finn suggested.

“Rumblings?” Dorian repeated skeptically.

“The archdemon’s calling becomes physically audible when it’s close enough,” Sigrun explained. “Get something, anything loud enough, it’ll vibrate the rock until it even shakes some loose. Hence, the cave-ins and our drastically reduced numbers.”

As if to punctuate her point, a low rumbling echoed through the road. Dust drifted down from the ceiling, and a few tiny pebbles came loose.

“See what I mean?” Sigrun said cheerfully. “Cave-ins.”

“We haven’t had a strong one in a couple of days, though,” Finn added. “Lucky us.”

Varric groaned. “Kid, don’t jinx us.”

Finn bristled. “ _Kid_? I’m twenty five-”

Another low rumble, louder than the last, interrupted them. Everyone’s eyes jumped to the distance ceiling; more dust filtered down as the rumble slowly faded away. Several seconds of uneasy silence passed as everyone stared at the ceiling in anxious expectation. Then, right as everyone seemed to relax, a deep resounding _crack_ echoed throughout the air. Above them, the ceiling fractured as enormous chunks of rock ripped free.

“RUN!” Castielle bellowed. Everyone jerked out of their horrified entrancement and bolted forward. The clamoring of stone hitting stone and breaking again and again was deafening, serving to egg them on faster as dust filled the air.

A rock bounced and struck Delilah on the back of the leg. She stumbled, suddenly terrified that she was about to be buried deep underground where she would never again be found. A hand grasped hers and yanked her forward out of reach of the cave-in as the rubble finally, mercifully became still.


	5. In Death, Sacrifice

Cullen set down the papers he’d been reading and hefted a sigh. He sat back and rubbed his eyes; a desk job was just not for him. The words were beginning to blur and dance on the page before him, leaving him with a low throbbing headache. But organizing the march to the Arbor Wilds, packing the necessary materials, making sure every soldier was armed and armored and trained and _ready_ , was absolutely necessary. Despite this, he knew he would be incredibly grateful once it was over, and not just because they needed to stop Corypheus’ evil plans.

A grumble from his stomach distracted him. “Alright, fine,” he muttered to nobody in particular. “Lunch, then we’ll continue work.” He stood and headed for the door, his mind already on what to grab from the kitchens.

His hand had barely closed on the handle of the door to his office when the door flew open, knocking into him. Cullen stumbled back, clasping his now-painful nose. “What in Andraste’s name-” he swore.

Standing in the doorway, looking more harried than he’d seen her since the Conclave explosion, was Leliana. “Cullen!” she blurted. She thrust a sheet of paper at him. “Delilah is in trouble!”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down Leliana,” Cullen said soothingly. He reached out and gripped her shoulders. “Slow down, start from the beginning.”

“Delilah, Cassandra, Varric, Dorian, and one of my agents has fallen into a mineshaft and gotten trapped underground,” Leliana explained. She took a shaky breath and held out the paper again, which he took and began scanning over. “Agent O’Riley sent a report via raven just now. They’d just finished clearing out that templar encampment and were investigating the area. They were surprised by a remaining templar and fell into the mine.”

Cullen’s heart sank with every word until it lodged somewhere roughly around his ankles. “What!?” he said, aghast. “Is-is she alright? Is she hurt? Did they try and get down into the mine to save her?”

“We couldn’t,” Leliana confessed. “It was too deep and they don’t have the materials to reach the bottom. We don’t know if they even survived the fall.”

Cullen turned and paced away, scrubbing his hands over his face. “We have to do something!” he exclaimed.

“I’ve already sent agents to all of the mines in the area, as well as all of the Deep Roads entrances that we’re aware of in the area,” Leliana tried to assure him. She stepped inside and turned to close the door behind her. “I sent for Josephine to join us, we have to weigh the consequences of alerting the Orlesian palace about the Inquisitor’s disappearance-” She turned back to face him and stopped, staring at Cullen. “What are you doing?”

Cullen didn’t pause as he buckled the straps on his gauntlets. “I’m going to go save her, what else?” he said gruffly.

“Cullen...”

“Look, Leliana, she saved me and I have no right to do any less for her,” he claimed. Finished with his armor, he grabbed a knapsack and started shoving supplies into it. “I-I-I have to go. I have to-”

Leliana’s hand fell upon his, stilling him. “Cullen,” she said firmly. “We can’t afford to lose you too.”

“We haven’t lost her, not yet, not if I have anything to say about it!”

“Cullen! If something _has_ happened to her, _we are going to need you._ We’re leading an assault on the Arbor Wilds, and we need our commander to lead our army. _Delilah_ needs you to lead our army,” the spy assured him. “You cannot run off and do this to us. We need you now more than ever.”

Cullen clenched his hands, not even caring that they were trembling. “I can’t lose her,” he whispered.

“We’re not going to lose her,” Leliana soothed. “I’ve already come up with an idea of how to get her back.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve already sent word to the Iron Bull to prepare his Chargers for a mission to the Western Approach, with plenty of rope so as to rappel down the mineshaft to rescue them all,” the spy explained. “The Chargers are likely already packed and ready to go.”

“You think this is wise?” Cullen questioned. “I don’t know much about Iron Bull personally, but-”

“They have references throughout Orlais and much of the Free Marches, they’re incredibly reliable,” Leliana persuaded. “I think they can do this.”

He stared at her for a long moment, before his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Alright,” he sighed. “I trust you. Send the Chargers. Just bring her home safe,” he pleaded.

Leliana laid a hand on his forearm. “She will come back to us,” she promised. “We will not let her go quite so easily.”

“Very well.” Cullen dropped the half-packed knapsack on his desk and leaned against it. “We must….we must continue preparation for the assault on the Arbor Wilds as if nothing has changed,” he said finally. “Preparations should be completed and the army fully assembled in just over a week, about the same time as Delilah was supposed to come back.”

“You’re doing the right thing, Cullen,” Leliana reassured him. “She is the strongest of all of us, she would not allow something like this to keep her from her duty, or from you.”

The commander raised his head and stared out the window at the soft azure sky. “I pray to Andraste that you are right.”

 

* * *

 

Slowly, the dust began to settle and the damage became apparent. Everyone turned and stared back at the cave-in, which now completely sealed the read behind them. Delilah turned to see Cassandra at her side, their hands still clasped. “Are you hurt?” the warrior asked, breathless.

“I’m a little bruised but I’m sure I’ll live,” Delilah panted. “Creators, is everyone okay?”

Everyone chimed in that they were unhurt. “Well,” Castielle sighed. “I suppose that leaves us with no option but to continue forward.”

"Are these earthquakes going to get worse?" Dorian asked cautiously.

"Yes," Sigrun replied. "There's a reason most of our exploratory force is dead."

Gloom settled quickly over the group at that, and when they finally started moving again they walked in silence for several minutes before Varric suddenly spoke.

“Sunny, you ever wonder if those red templars were digging around in the area because of this archdemon nonsense?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Delilah replied tiredly. Castielle shot them both a confused glance.

“I’m sorry, _red_ templars?” she questioned.

“Templars who’ve consumed tainted red lyrium which gives them immense strength but also corrupts their bodies, basically turning them into monsters,” Delilah explained briefly. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Varric.”

“Well I mean, if there really is an archdemon down here, it could be attracting the red templars just like it would the darkspawn,” the dwarf continued. “The red lyrium could let them hear its calling too.”

Delilah glanced at Castielle. The warden shrugged, not appearing to understand any more than the elf did, and Varric sighed. “Since the red lyrium is tainted by the _Blight_.”

There was a moment of profound silence. Then Delilah made a noise of comprehension at the same time Castielle and Finn said simultaneously “It’s tainted by _what!?_ ”

“Varric’s super-genius girlfriend found out that lyrium can contract the Blight, and when it does it becomes red lyrium,” Delilah said vaguely. She smacked her own forehead. “Of course! That completely explains what those red templars were up to! Why else would they be there, just digging in the middle of the damn desert, when as far as we seem to see, Corypheus has recalled them all to the Arbor Wilds? The archdemon’s calling must’ve been influencing them the same way it does the darkspawn.”

“Only living things can get the taint,” Finn protested.

“Oh, yeah, turns out lyrium _is_ living,” Varric said nonchalantly. “It’s Titan blood.”

Sigrun made a choked noise. “It’s _what now_?”

“Clearly, there’s a lot that we need to be made aware of,” Castielle interrupted. “I would like to discuss all of this – _all of it_ – with you once we all return to the surface,” she said, directing the statement towards Delilah. The elf nodded in agreement.

“I hate to impose, but can we stop for a break?” Murray called from the back. Delilah turned to look at him. In the torchlight, his face was pallid, and he was breathing heavily.

“Are you alright? If you’re feeling ill, I know some healing magic,” Delilah offered. Everyone slowed to a stop, looking grateful for the reprieve.

“No, I…I’m not sure what’s wrong,” he said tiredly. He sat heavily, shaking his head. “I just feel…I feel _wrong_.”

Delilah knelt beside him and laid her hand on his chest. She released a wave of soft magic into him, trying to get a sense of what the issue could be. The feeling that came rushing back into her made her recoil.

“It’s _black_ ,” she exclaimed. Castielle and Finn came up beside them.

“Here, I’m very experienced with spirit healing,” Finn offered. “I can help.”

“Please,” Delilah said, relieved. She moved over to make room, and Finn did the same as the elf had done; he laid his hand on Murray’s chest and she felt rather than saw the wave of magic pour forth. A couple of seconds later, Finn sat back with a grim look on his face. He looked up at Castielle, who had been watching intently, and nodded. The senior warden sighed heavily.

“Well, shit,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck.

“What is it?” Cassandra asked. “Is he sick?” Beside her, Varric’s face was turning steadily paler, as if he were about to be ill.

Castielle ignored them and knelt in front of Murray. “There’s not an easy way to say this,” she said somberly. “You’ve contracted the Blight.”

For a long moment, Murray just stared at her blankly. Then, inexplicably, he let out a low chuckle. “Well that just figures, doesn’t it?” he sighed tiredly. “’Just a simple posting in the Western Approach,’ they said. ‘No real fighting’ they said. ‘Join the Inquisition to make a change in the world,’ they said.” His voice had turned hard and bitter. He spat. “Some change, this. Falling down a hole and dying stuck down in this dank, dark, vile, darkspawn reeking pit.”

“Murray, we’re going to do everything we can to help you,” Delilah said softly. She stood and turned to face Castielle. “Is there anything we can do? This is your area of expertise, after all.”

The warden was shaking her head before the elf even finished talking. “There is no cure for the Blight,” she said gravely.

“Andraste’s ass, this is just like with Carver all over again,” Varric said hoarsely. Delilah glanced at him but let the comment pass without question.

“But you all are Gray Wardens! There must be _something_ you can do,” the Inquisitor beseeched, looking between the three wardens. In turn, Castielle, Finn, and Sigrun all shook their heads somberly.

“The only ‘cure’ is to become a gray warden,” Sigrun said sadly. “But we have neither the time nor the resources to perform a Joining ceremony.”

“I’m sorry,” Castielle said softly to Murray. “I sincerely wish we could help.”

The Inquisition scout was silent, his expression bleak as he stared off into the dark distance. “I understand,” he whispered after several seconds of silence. “If this is where I’m to die, then so be it.”

“I’ll do it if you want,” Castielle offered. She drew her dagger and held it out in front of her. “Or you can do it yourself, if you prefer.”

“You cannot be serious,” Delilah protested. “Are you so sure there’s no other way? It’s suicide or nothing?”

“Sunny, there’s not another way around this,” Varric said softly. “Trust me, I know.”

A hand fell onto her shoulder and she turned to see Cassandra behind her. “It is hard, I know,” the taller woman said softly. “But think of this as being the same as when we found my old apprentice, Daniel, suffering of being force-fed red lyrium, when we found that Lord Seeker Lucius had betrayed the Seekers. There _is no cure_ besides death.”

“That doesn’t make this right,” the elf protested, but without any real energy behind it.

“I know.” Cassandra squeezed her shoulder gently. “But in this situation, the only options are a quick and merciful death, or a slow and painful one.”

“She’s right,” Sigrun said sadly.

“Who do you want to do it?” Castielle asked, addressing Murray. He was silent for a moment, then raised his rapidly-clouding eyes to stare at the warden.

“I want you to do it,” he said clearly. “I mean, death at the hand of the legendary Hero of Ferelden? What an honor.”

“Very well,” Castielle said. She knelt and placed her dagger gently at his throat. “If it is any consolation to you,” she murmured, almost too quietly for Delilah to hear, “I believe that you could’ve made a good Warden.”

Murray chuckled. “My dear, beautiful warden,” he rasped. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Castielle jerked her hand, and blood gushed forth from Murray’s throat. He jerked and let out a short gurgle, then slumped to the ground, dead.

For a moment, everyone was silent. Then, Castielle stood and hefted a sigh. “Well, that’s that,” she said, wiping Murray’s blood from her dagger on his coat. “You have my sympathies,” she said, turning to Delilah. “I’m sure that this comes as little consolation, but if it were possible, I’d have gladly welcomed him into the Wardens.”

“Thank you,” the elf murmured. Everyone was subdued at the sudden gruesome turn this had taken, and she didn’t blame them. “We should take his pack, he might have some food. And his personal belongings should be returned to his family, if we make it back to the surface.”

“Agreed,” Cassandra chimed in.


	6. Delving Deeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Mike. Love you

Burials are damn near impossible when one is surrounded by solid rock, as it turns out. It took several tries and near total temporary hearing loss to use magic to gouge out a hole off the side of the stone road that was big enough to fit a human body. Delilah searched Murray’s bag for his personal journal and any food or supplies that could be useful, then returned his satchel to him. Everyone poured fistfuls of dirt over him and sealed his body in with large stones, as fitting a funeral as they could achieve given their circumstances.

Once everybody had paid their respects, they continued walking, but this time the chatter was minimal. Murray’s sudden and morbid death weighed heavily on everybody’s mind, leaving them in a somber mood as they delved ever deeper into the earth.

After easily another three hours of walking, Delilah suddenly realized that the faint vibration in the floor and walls around them had finally become an audible hum.

“Do you hear that?” Delilah asked, breaking the silence.

“What _is_ that?” Varric said. Everyone looked around, as if just becoming aware of the faint, haunting noise.

“That,” Castielle interjected, her voice oddly strained, “is the call of an Old God.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to her, awaiting an explanation. “We’re getting close?” Dorian probed.

“Yes, our maps showed that Razikale was imprisoned in this area,” Finn explained. “We’re getting close to her projected prison.”

“So we’re really going to do this?” Delilah said, somewhat nervously.

“Not much point in going this far if we’re just going to chicken out at the end,” Sigrun chuckled. “Besides, the Wardens have been planning this expedition for decades. The last one was a failure because the cave-ins from the Calling killed so many of the previous Wardens who tried to come down here. It nearly did the same to us.”

“What are we even supposed to do once we find the Old God’s prison?” Cassandra asked.

“We kill it,” Castielle said simply. “We’re going to test our cure first, however. Have you ever killed a high dragon?”

Memories flashed by of the seven or so high dragons that Delilah and her companions had slain; the Fereldan Frostback as well as the high dragon possessed by the spirit of Hakkon Wintersbreath being the most exciting ones of them all. The memories of singed clothes and burnt hair, evenings of patching up frost and fire burns and later, celebrating the slaying with the Iron Bull in the Herald’s Rest tavern…

Delilah shook herself out of her reverie. “Yes, we’ve killed a few,” she answered. Castielle gave a faint smirk.

“Well, high dragons are intense, to be sure, but they’re nothing compared to archdemons,” the senior Warden explained. “Though as far as I know, this Old God hasn’t been corrupted into an archdemon yet. So we’re not sure what its power level will be, compared to high dragons and archdemons. But, as I have experience with both, we’ll manage to do just fine, I’m sure.”

As she spoke, Castielle reached into her pack and pulled out a small bottle full of a dark green liquid, and passed it to Sigrun. The dwarf uncorked it and took a swill, grimacing at the taste.

“What’s that?” Delilah asked, curious.

“Our experimental cure for the Calling,” Finn replied. “We’ve given it to several Wardens at various stages of enduring the taint, to see if it has to be given at a specific stage in order to change the effectiveness. Warden Commander Cousland and I have already taken it.”

Castielle nodded as he spoke, putting the resealed bottle back into her bag. “Once all this is done, we’ll be returning to Weisshaupt with our results.”

“So you’re a scientific Warden expedition, huh?” Varric joked.

“Something like that,” Finn replied, his eyebrow quirked up in amusement.

“Regardless, we should continue on,” Castielle continued. “We should be just a couple hours away from the thaig where Razikale is imprisoned.”

Delilah sidled up to walk next to the senior Warden. “How does one kill an archdemon, anyway?” she asked. “You’re the only person alive who’s ever killed one. You’re a legend.”

The shorter woman chuckled. “Well, you would think that a good sword would do the trick,” she said thoughtfully. “And you’d be partially right. But only a Warden is capable of slaying an archdemon, and I can’t explain why.”

“She’s right, about not being able to explain,” Varric piped up. “Hawke’s brother Carver became a Gray Warden and became super secretive about it all.”

“Carver? I met a Carver in Weisshaupt,” Sigrun chimed in. “Tall guy, short black hair, blue eyes? Biceps bigger than my head?”

“That’s him,” Varric said, surprised. “You know him well?”

“Oh, I wish,” Sigrun sighed. “But I’ve got a girlfriend so, you know, I gotta behave. Velanna would have my hide if I went off with some human.”

Castielle chuckled. “That she would.”

They continued on. The humming grew louder; it didn’t have any specific melody but it still felt distinctly song-like. Far from making Delilah’s skin crawl like she’d expected, it seemed to awake strange emotions deep in her soul.

“Is this really what the Calling feels like?” she asked Castielle in a hushed voice. She rubbed her arms, brushing away the gooseflesh that had popped up.

“I haven’t experienced my Calling, so I don’t know for sure,” the Warden admitted. Far from her previous cool and unruffled appearance, now she appeared uneasy and on edge. “I’ve spoken with some senior Wardens who started to experience their Callings before they left for Orzammar, and they said that it was a sound of terrible beauty and awful yearning.”

Delilah fell silent. She didn’t know if that described this strange, haunting feeling, precisely, but she did know that it set her hair on end and set her anxiety ablaze.

A low rumbling echoed from far ahead, before fading slowly away. Everyone glanced at one another. “Was that another cave-in?” Dorian asked nervously.

“As we approach the old god prison, cave-ins _will_ be more likely,” Finn remarked. “It’s what stopped the previous expedition, after all.”

“Let’s just hope we’re luckier than they were,” Cassandra muttered.

“I’ll just be glad once this is over with,” Varric groaned. “Andraste’s ass, if I _never_ come back to the blighted Deep Roads, it’ll be too soon.”

“Agreed,” Delilah added.

The Calling grew steadily louder as they continued deeper underground. The walls vibrated tangibly under their touch, and pebbles and dust rained down on them almost continually.

“A single darkspawn is ahead,” Sigrun warned suddenly. “Just around this corner.”

Delilah hefted her staff off her back as everyone readied their weapons. “After you,” she said to Castielle, gesturing at the turn in the road. The Warden gave her a faint smile, readying her crossbow.

Before they even rounded the corner, the creature rushed forward and jumped them.

The thing was faster than anything Delilah had ever seen before. The torchlight only illuminated a blur as it bolted between them; it knocked Dorian and Sigrun back and charged Castielle, emitting a bone-chilling shriek. Delilah sent a blast of fire at it but missed; Castielle fired bolt after bolt in rapid succession. The creature shuddered as it was pierced again and again, but it didn’t slow. It bowled into the Warden and knocked her to the ground.

The two grappled on the ground. Its jaws snapped inches from the Warden’s face, spittle flying off the jagged teeth. Cassandra leapt forward and hacked at it with her sword, but only succeeded in angering it. Its claws ripped at the Warden armor, tearing her cloak and drawing blood. Castielle bellowed in pain and shoved it off of her with one massive push.

The creature stumbled back and snarled. More bolts whizzed past and pierced it, and Delilah recognized the red-fletched bolts as Varric’s. Almost out of nowhere, Sigrun appeared behind it and leapt onto its back. The darkspawn let out a bloodcurdling scream as her daggers sank deep into its back; it tried to reach back and claw her off but she clung on doggedly. Ice shards flew past and buried themselves deep into the center of its chest. Its screaming cut off, and it crumpled to the ground, dead. Behind her, Delilah heard Finn let out a triumphant whoop.

Off to the side, Sigrun was helping Castielle up. Finn and Delilah jogged over.

“Are you alright?” Delilah asked worriedly. The Warden shook her head as if to clear cobwebs from her mind.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, waving them off. Despite her words, her voice was high and tight from pain. “Just a little scratched up. The Shriek just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Need me to patch you up?” Finn offered.

“I’m afraid so,” Castielle sighed. “We will need to be at our full strength when we arrive at the Old God prison.” She tugged off her now tattered, fur-lined cloak to reveal the deep gouges in her shoulder and upper arm. Finn placed his hands over the wound and soft blue light poured forth. The senior Warden squirmed as her flesh knitted itself back together, grunting once through gritted teeth.

“Andraste’s dimpled asscheeks, I’ll never be used to that feeling if I have to experience it every day for the rest of my life!” Castielle exclaimed. She rotated her shoulder, testing to see if the healing would hold. “Looks like I’m back to normal. Shame about the cloak, though, it was a gift.”

“Good,” Sigrun said. “Are you alright to continue?”

“Yes,” Castielle replied. “Let’s go.”

Delilah sidled up to Finn as they walked. He glanced at her and gave a shy smile. “Inquisitor, was it? Not sure I ever officially said hi.” He stuck his hand out, and the elf clasped it.

“Just Delilah is fine,” she replied with a smile. “Titles like that don’t really do anybody any good when we’re stuck like this.”

“Too true.” The man scratched at the side of his nose idly. “So, what can I do for you?”

“I’m actually curious about your skills with spirit healing; I’ve been attempting to learn but I find it difficult to say the least. Did you learn that on your own?”

Finn laughed a bit. “Ah, no. I learned most of the theory behind it while I was still in Ferelden’s Circle, and had access to their massive library. Much of my practical experience has come from following the Warden-Commander,” he explained, nodding towards Castielle, who led the group several feet in front of them. “We each owe the other our lives, many times over. But I’ll never be able to repay the debt I owe her for freeing me from the Circle,” he said more softly.

“You’re an apostate as well?” Delilah asked, curious. Finn wiggled his hand noncommittedly.

“More or less,” he frowned. “It’s not _really_ being an apostate when you’re a part of the Wardens, after all. As it is, it’s only due to her that I was allowed out of Kinloch Hold at all. And once I realized what exactly I was missing by willingly staying trapped in those stone walls, I vowed to never go back. She offered protection by way of joining the Wardens, and I accepted.”

“And I’ve been stuck with you ever since,” Castielle called back. Finn and Delilah jumped guiltily.

“Didn’t realize you were listening in, Cas,” Finn chuckled. “Besides, if I weren’t here, who would heal you every time you managed to get yourself hurt? You really ought to work on your constitution if you insist upon jumping into the middle of every single battle, like you seem to enjoy.”

“If I didn’t leap into the middle of the fray, who would protect your skinny little ass?” the senior Warden teased. The entire party chuckled, and some of the atmosphere’s tension seemed to finally dissipate.

It wasn’t too much longer before the sloped road under their feet began to gradually level out. The combination of their depth as well as the steadily increasing volume of the Old God’s call was making Delilah’s ears hurt deep in her skull; she stuck her fingertips in her ears and rubbed, attempting to ease the pressure. It only helped a little.

If the three Gray Wardens were in pain from the Old God’s call, they didn’t show it. Following the Shriek’s attack and the lighthearted banter, even Castielle seemed to have calmed somewhat. She still seemed anxious, but her energy seemed focused now as her goal drew near. Delilah turned her gaze from the woman to the dark road stretching out into the distance, and did her best to soothe the anxiety within herself. Her thoughts returned to Cullen, and wondered if word had yet reached him of their peril. As dangerous as this situation was, she was suddenly very grateful to have her most trusted friends at her side.


	7. The Belly of the Beast

The stretch of the Deep Roads that they’d been on for the past several hours had begun to twist and turn more and more. Soon, to everyone’s relief, the roads opened up and branched off into a huge dwarven thaig.

They all slowed to a stop, staring around in amazement. Delilah had only been in a couple dwarven thaigs before, but this one was far different and much older looking than she’d seen before. Many of the carvings were lined with softly pulsing lyrium, reminiscent of the runestones that Dagna had excitedly shown her down in the Undercroft. The walls of the cavern had pillars of what looked like massive trunks of solid lyrium, spaced out at even intervals and glowing brightly, lighting the area in a cool blue light. And the entire area trembled and emitted a soft keening noise, shaken by the Old God’s call.

Sigrun seemed to share Delilah’s opinion. “This place is incredible!” Sigrun exclaimed. "The architecture here is astonishing, it looks more ancient than any dwarven thaig I've ever seen.”

“In your professional opinion as a dwarf, Sigrun,” Castielle chimed in, “is this thaig feasible as the old god prison?”

“This thaig _is_ approximately in the location the maps pointed to,” the dwarf said thoughtfully. She walked over to the nearest building and delicately traced a fingertip over the carvings in the stone. “These carvings are only very distantly similar to modern dwarven decorative architecture, with similar style but very different execution. The stone used in the buildings is also the same as the stone of the cavern walls, indicating that the thaig was built before the advent of technology to easily move large pieces of stone from different locations. All of it points to this place being built, well, roughly around the time that Tevinter’s false gods were supposedly cast down and imprisoned, give or take a century.” She shrugged. “Everything’s saying this is our place, Cas.”

Castielle hefted a sigh and placed her hands on her hips. “Very well. We should rest, gather our strength before we go any deeper. Strange, though, how few darkspawn have been in the area. You’d think with the old god so relatively easily accessed, that they’d have swarmed this thaig trying to dig it out.”

Delilah dropped her pack and sat with a groan of relief. She unlaced her boots and slid them off, wiggling her toes gratefully. Blisters were already forming on the balls of her feet, and she took a moment to spread some healing magic over them. Beside her, Cassandra sat with a heavy sigh.

“Delilah, how’s your shoulder?” Cassandra asked softly. Delilah worked her shoulder back and forth, testing the joint.

“It’s much better,” she replied. “It’s just a little sore now. I’m sure I’ll be completely back to normal in a day or so.”

“I’m glad.” The two women were silent for a moment.

“We’re going to get out of here, right?” Delilah said eventually. She tried to keep her tone as nonchalant as possible, but as well as Cassandra knew her, the warrior had to see right through the façade.

“Of course we’re going to get out of here,” Cassandra said firmly. “There’s still much to do for us. If nothing else, Corypheus must still be stopped. And you still must return to tell Cullen your true feelings for him.”

Delilah sputtered a little. “Creators, I’d hoped you’d forgotten about that.”

The Nevarran smiled. “After your generous help with getting Varric to continue writing Swords and Shields for me? I absolutely must return the favor,” she said innocently. Delilah barked out a laugh, the memory warm as it arose in her mind.

“Alright, fair enough,” the elf chuckled. “But let me talk to him before you do anything, alright?”

“Agreed.”

“We’ll rest for an hour,” Castielle announced. “Does that sound good to you, Inquisitor?”

“Yes, that sounds reasonable,” Delilah said tiredly. “Creators, it feels like we’ve been wandering around these dank tunnels for months.”

“If this goes well, we’ll all be back on the surface in just a couple of days,” Finn said cheerfully. “Our exit isn’t horribly far away from here. The only downside is it opens up in Orlais, of all places.”

“Where in Orlais?” Delilah asked, curious.

He waved a hand vaguely. “Somewhere around Sulevin’s Cradle, I believe.”

Relief washed through Delilah. “Oh, if that’s true, that’s not too far away from Skyhold,” she exclaimed. “We could be home in a week!”

“I certainly hope so,” Dorian interjected. “I for one am sick and tired of being stuck down in a hole.”

“Seconded,” Varric agreed.

“Sigrun, how are you feeling?” Castielle asked the dwarf, who paused, looking thoughtful.

“I feel pretty normal,” she replied after a moment. “A little nauseous, but that could be due to the audible and physically tangible Calling song that’s rattling everything around us.”

“That’s true,” the senior Warden sighed. “I feel much the same. Perhaps this batch doesn’t work.”

“It could be a number of things,” Finn interjected. He held up his fingers, counting them off. “It’s highly possible that our proximity to the old god is overpowering any effect the potion _does_ have. It could be that since the old god isn’t actually an archdemon yet, that it isn’t triggering a realistic Calling within us. It could be that our Calling isn’t actually related to the old god’s call to the darkspawn, or that the old god’s calling is simply different from the calling of our own taint. It might be that it’s not being triggered properly because the old god is still asleep-”

“Yes, thank you, Finn,” Castielle cut him off. He shrugged, giving an understanding smile.

“I wouldn’t worry, Warden Commander,” he placated. “We’ll get more answers when we make it back to Weisshaupt.”

They spent the rest of their rest hour mostly in silence, tending to their own blisters or, in Sigrun’s case, catching a quick nap. Eventually, Castielle and Delilah caught each other’s eye and nodded, then rose to their feet. Everyone else followed suit, stretching and groaning.

“Shall we?” Finn suggested, gesturing towards the heart of the thaig.

They crept ever deeper underground. The Calling echoed off the walls, which shook and groaned under the assault. The lyrium pillars holding up the ceiling rattled under the duress.

“Where the hell are all the darkspawn?” Finn wondered aloud. “If we can find the archdemon with this much relative ease, there’s no way they haven’t found this place before.”

“Shouldn’t we just be grateful that we haven’t been swarmed by them?” Delilah pointed out. Varric grunted in agreement.

“True but it’s still worrying,” Castielle mused. “Come on, I don’t think there’s too much further till the end.”

Sure enough, it took less than an hour for them to find what appeared to be the central area of the thaig. Castielle led them inside, her sword drawn and ready.

The hallway branched off into several different rooms and corridors. A fine layer of dust coated everything, artefacts with unknowable intended purpose untouched for more centuries than Delilah could wrap her mind around. Besides the seven of them, there was no movement.

Conversely, the old god’s song had grown ever louder with every step. Delilah fought the urge to cover her ears to fend off the reverberating, eerie song. Everyone’s face was drawn and pale in the torchlight, and even the unflappable Castielle looked as if she were going to be sick.

They turned a corner and stopped dead. Their way was blocked by a massive double door, easily big enough for a high dragon to walk through and carved with elaborate images and designs that covered the entire surface. The door was barred by a single massive stone slab, resting far above their heads.

“How in Andraste’s name are we supposed to get this open?” Cassandra exclaimed. “We can’t even reach that, let alone lift it!”

“We haven’t come this far to be stopped by a damn door, no matter how big,” Castielle grunted. She pulled off a glove and laid her bare hand on the door, brushing her fingertips lightly across the stone. “I don’t believe the Maker actually cast down any Tevinter gods, personally, but archdemons are real enough, and SOMEBODY had to have built this thaig. There has to be another way in, if nothing else but as an escape for us little people.” Her fingertips passed over a carved image of a dragon spewing flame at cowering people, and the eye of the dragon clicked softly and depressed back into the door. There was soft grinding noise accompanied by a puff of dust, and a hidden, smaller sized doorway opened up in the center of the main door, just tall enough for the Delilah, her companions, and the Wardens to get through.

Before them was a massive cavern, dimly lit by the glowing red stone embedded into each of the eight walls of the octagonal walls. The center of the room had a small pedestal, about chest height. On the far end of the room, taking up nearly the entire wall section, was a massive cage door, behind which was a deep, dark blackness that seemed to swallow up all light.

Castielle strode fearlessly across the room, sword still in hand. Sigrun and Finn followed behind her, with Delilah, Cassandra, Dorian, and Varric pulling up the rear.

“As much as I adore the Deep Road and ancient dwarven thaigs,” Dorian said over the shrill call of the old god, “I must say this is getting rather dull.”

Castielle reached the cage door and peered between the bars, each as thick around as her entire body.

“It’s in there, right?” Sigrun asked. “I mean, I don’t want to deal with how angry it’s gonna be when we wake it up, but ancestors below, I _really_ hope that it’s there after all we went through to get here.”

“It’s in there, alright,” Castielle breathed. “Andraste’s tits, that’s a big dragon.”

Everyone came up to the cage door and peered in. The torchlight only seemed to penetrate the first couple of feet before being swallowed by darkness. Then, as Delilah’s eyes adjusted, the outline of the old god became apparent.

Its massive body, bigger than any dragon Delilah had fought yet, was curled up like a dog sleeping in front of a fireplace; its tail wrapped protectively around its body, and its head was hidden behind its crossed front legs. Whereas all the high dragons that Delilah had previously fought had been brightly colored with their scales polished to the point of giving a dizzying reflection of light, this dragon’s scales appeared dull and reflected next to no light at all. The beast’s outline was blurred by what looked like rocks and debris that had fallen on it, and not been shaken off. Its side slowly expanded and contracted, keeping time with the sonorous breathing that echoed off the walls. The noise mingled with the calling song, drawing on Delilah’s nerve like a bow on an instrument’s strings.

“Was the archdemon you killed in Denerim this big?” Varric asked Castielle.

“Not exactly,” she replied vaguely.

“How do we release it?” Cassandra asked. “If the time was taken to build these prisons, there must be some mechanism to open the door.”

Delilah turned to look back at the pedestal in the center of the room. “Maybe it has something to do with that?” she suggested, jerking her thumb back at it.

“It could be,” Castielle mused. She walked over to it and examined it. “There’s a handle here, perhaps if I pull it the cage door will release.”

“Would it really be that easy?” Sigrun questioned. The senior Warden considered the podium for a moment, then quickly flipped the switch.

Nothing happened.

Everyone, Delilah included, let out a sigh of relief. They all retreated to join Castielle around the podium.

“Is it broken?” Cassandra asked.

“I don’t think so,” Castielle replied. She flipped it back and forth a couple of times. Each movement caused a low rumbling sound somewhere under the stone floor, but caused no discernable change. “Perhaps this isn’t the only switch that needs to be thrown?”

Finn looked around thoughtfully, then quickly strode over to one of the wall sections. “Aha!” he exclaimed. “Each wall has a switch on it too.”

He was right. Further examination showed that each wall, besides the one with the cage and the one with the door, had a switch on it as well.

“Seven switches,” Dorian said thoughtfully. “I wonder if they have to be pressed in a certain pattern.”

“Maker, I hope not,” Varric grumbled. “That’ll take ages to figure out.”

“Well, there’s seven switches and seven of us,” Delilah pointed out. “Why don’t we try first all switching them at the same time?”

“That sounds like a reasonable theory,” Finn pointed out. “If I built this prison, I wouldn’t want any one person be able to open this of their own volition. It’s likely this was designed to need unanimous agreement to open the cage, from whoever was in charge back then.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, before Castielle piped up. “That sounds like as good of a plan as any,” she agreed. “We’ll try it. Everyone, pick a wall, and stand ready.”

Several seconds later, everyone stood ready at their chosen wall. Cassandra and Sigrun stood at the two wall sections closest to the cage door; behind them were Dorian and Varric; and in the back two wall sections nearest the exit were Delilah and Finn. In the center of the room, next to the podium, stood Castielle. Her left hand hovered over the switch, her sword grasped in her right hand. “Is everybody ready?” she called.

Everyone called out ‘ready’ in turn with varying degrees of excitement. Delilah breathed a brief prayer that this would go well, and gently touched her switch.

“On my count,” Castielle called out. “Three. Two. One. _Now!_ ”

Everyone pulled their lever at the same time. A deep, resounding _thud_ echoed from underneath their feet, followed by a low grinding noise. They all stared expectantly at the cage door, which remained closed. The grinding noise stopped, and they all looked around at each other.

“Maybe it didn’t work?” Finn said hesitantly.

He was interrupted almost immediately by a low creaking groan. They turned back to face the massive cage door, which was slowly, inexorably, swinging open. They waited with bated breath, weapons held at the ready, as the door finished opening and hung, wide open.

For a long, pregnant moment, nothing happened. Then, mercifully, the resonating song of the old god dwindled away.

The silence was almost deafening. Delilah’s ears rang in the absence of the calling, but she ignored it.

“Is it awake?” she called hesitantly.

“I don’t know-”

Castielle’s words were cut off by a slow slithering sound. They could hear rocks tumbling to the ground and a low scraping, slithering noise. A flash of light reflected from deep inside the cave – a pair of yellow, reptilian eyes.


	8. Gently into the Night

Delilah’s heart clenched with dread as the beast slowly emerged from its ancient prison. It sluggishly dragged its massive weight out of the cage and dust rained from its limbs, revealing glimmering scarlet scales underneath the grime. Razikale shook its heavy, massively horned head as if to shake cobwebs out of its head. It sucked in a breath, a deep growl rumbling at the edges of its breath. It loomed far above them, swaying slightly, bigger by far than even the dragon Hakkon Wintersbreath.

“Now, before it gets its bearings!” Castielle shouted. She sheathed her sword and unshouldered her crossbow, firing off shots in rapid succession.

The old god’s head jerked in the senior Warden’s direction, drawn by her shout. The archdemon had barely opened its mouth to deliver a snarl when Castielle’s bolts slammed into its neck and chest. It bellowed in agony as the steel pierced its less-protected flesh, the sound echoing deafeningly off the stone walls.

Delilah leapt into action, as did everybody else. She, Varric, Dorian, and Finn clung to the edges of the room, firing off spells and bolts whenever an opportunity presented itself. Cassandra and Sigrun charged in, hacking and slicing at the creatures legs. Soon the stone floor was slick with the dragon’s hot blood, making the footing treacherous.

Castielle paced around it, firing rapid shots at the beast. The high dragon buffeted them all with its wings, screeching and bellowing, and Delilah shielded her eyes against the swirling dust.

“Get under the belly, where the armor is weak!” Cassandra shouted above the din. Dorian shot a fireball at the beast’s face, and it roared in fury, waving around a massive clawed foot. Sigrun and Cassandra darted through the opening in its defenses and began hacking at its softer underbelly.

Razikale bellowed and lashed its tail. It whipped by Delilah and Varric, who barely dodged the massive spines in the nick of time. A chunk of ice slammed into its shoulder, knocking it to the side; Delilah glanced over to see Finn weaving complicated magic, somehow attacking and healing simultaneously.

Delilah backed up against a wall, firing off spell after spell. The dragon swiped a claw at Cassandra; Delilah cast a hasty shield spell over her. The claw didn’t deflect entirely, but it slowed just enough to allow the warrior time to dart out of immediate danger. Castielle switched from her crossbow to her sword and darted underneath the beast’s belly, slicing at its more vulnerable spots. It screeched in agony and stamped its feet, narrowly missing squashing the Warden beneath.

The dragon reared back its head, and Delilah heard the guttural rattling that heralded a burst of flames. “Get back!” she shouted, readying a shield spell. Finn seemed to have the same idea, because they both cast shields over Cassandra, Sigrun, and Castielle at the same time. White hot flames billowed over the shield, but by some miracle it held. Dimly, Delilah could see them gasping and grimacing at the heat that undoubtedly still made its way through, but when the flames cleared and the shield dropped, they appeared only mildly worse for wear.

“Go!” Cassandra bellowed. Everyone darted around, confusing the beast. A blast of Dorian’s fire roared over the archdemon’s flank; at the same time, a thick layer of ice sprouted over Razikale’s head, blinding it. It let out a piercing shriek that caused everyone to grimace and cover their ears.

The dragon reared back on its hind legs to claw at the ice on its face. It swayed, then dropped one clawed foot for balance. Cassandra leapt out of the way, but not before a single claw ripped the fabric of her sleeve and tore open her arm.

“Cassandra!” Delilah shouted. Without a thought, she darted forward; Dorian moved behind her to cover her approach. As she ran she pulled a short sword hilt from her belt, and with a flick of her wrist a gleaming purple blade sprang forth, glowing brightly as if ablaze and humming with electricity that arced along its length.

Razikale was still trying to get the ice off its face when she stepped underneath its body. Dimly, she spotted Castielle turning to stare in surprise, and far behind her Finn, his eyes wide with delight. With a yell, Delilah swung the magical sword with all her might at the one front leg that still held the dragon upright.

The blade sizzled as it made contact with the scaly flesh. Hot blood sprayed forth, and Razikale’s agonized scream was their only warning before the beast’s entire weight came crashing down.

Castielle, Sigrun, Delilah, and Cassandra all barely managed to leap to safety before being crushed. Over the din, Finn whooped in victory.

“That’s amazing!” he shouted, jogging forward. “How did you do th-”

Razikale jerked its head blindly in the direction of Finn’s shout; before anybody could move, its front leg darted out and slapped down on top of the mage, silencing him.

Sigrun shrieked in dismay, and even Castielle’s face had gone white with shock. Delilah ran over as the high dragon lifted its bloody claws and turned away, drawn by Varric and Dorian’s renewed attacks.

Finn lay on his back, gasping weakly. His left arm and at least one of his legs was visibly broken, and he wept blood from deep gashes across his torso and belly. Delilah lifted shaking hands and started pumping healing magic into the man, but he was shaking his head before she even started.

“Don’t waste your mana,” he wheezed. “Too much damage.”

“Hush,” the Inquisitor shushed. She tore a swath from Finn’s robe and pressed it against the gashes, trying to staunch the blood. Behind her, Razikale let out another earsplitting shriek, but this time it was the desperate sound of a wounded and cornered animal, instead of a predator whose territory is threatened.

Despite herself, Delilah flinched at the sound and turned to see the high dragon fall to its belly once again. It roared as Castielle charged at a flat run, sword held aloft; but the beast’s bellow was cut off as the Warden sank her blade deep into its throat.

Everyone leapt back as it thrashed silently. After a moment, its death throes slowed, and then the archdemon was finally, mercifully, still.

Delilah turned her attention back to the dying mage, and pushed a new wave of healing magic into the man. Despite her ministrations, she could tell he was right; there was just too much damage done. Across from her, Castielle and Sigrun fell to their knees beside the mage; Varric, Dorian, and the bleeding Cassandra waited a few steps behind.

“Finn, I’ve told you to stay back out of the main fight!” Castielle exclaimed forcefully. “This is the kind of thing that happens when you disobey orders.” Despite the Warden’s harsh words, Delilah could see a faint tremble in her hands as she helped try and staunch the flow of blood.

Finn gave a painful, rattling cough, and flecks of blood stained his lips. His hand fell on top of Castielle’s and squeezed weakly. “You know me, Cas. Never could stay – _cough_ – out of trouble if I could help it. _Cough._ Especially when it came to you.”

“Oh Finn,” Sigrun whispered. Tears had already begun to fall down her tattooed face, leaving streaks in the dirt and soot. She gingerly lifted his head and laid it on her lap, brushing his dirty reddish hair from his forehead.

“You can save him, right?” Castielle shot the words at Delilah.

The Inquisitor was shaking her head before the senior Warden even finished speaking. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Finn’s right, the dragon just did too much damage; he’s bleeding internally and has a broken spine. I’m surprised he’s still alive, let alone awake.”

 Finn coughed again, more blood bubbling past his lips. “C-Cas,” he gasped. “P-please…if you find my p-parents…tell them I’m s-sorry I never v-visited them,” he stuttered out. His face had gone deathly pale, and his eyes lolled back in his head. Castielle gripped his hand tighter, and nodded.

“You have my word,” she swore.

“Thank you,” Finn whispered. “T-thank you, thank…” He trailed off, eyes fluttering shut.

Sigrun cried out, but Delilah raised a hand. “He’s not gone yet,” she said somberly. She laid her fingers on the side of his neck, where his heartbeat fluttered faintly. “He’s nearly there, though. Commander Cousland, are there any Gray Warden death rites that you do?”

For the first time since meeting her, Castielle looked completely lost. “When a Warden leaves for their calling, we hold a feast before a night of contemplation and prayer,” she said at length. Her eyes remained fixed on Finn’s deathly pale face. “The only thing I can think of is…” Castielle reached into the collar of her armor to pull out a silver chain necklace. On it hung a round silver pendant which rattled softly against two golden wedding rings. The Warden opened the pendant, but instead of a portrait there was a blotch of cracked, dried blood. On top of this, Castielle dabbed a smear of Finn’s blood, snapped the pendant shut, and shoved it back down her collar.

Delilah and Cassandra’s eyes met, and the warrior gave a slight shrug. The Inquisitor’s eyes dropped as Castielle took Finn’s hand again. “It was an honor serving with you,” she said softly. Sigrun nodded in agreement, and all three women sat there for another minute or two, until finally, Finn’s breathing stilled and his heartbeat stuttered to a stop.

“He’s gone,” Delilah said softly. Castielle nodded, then stood abruptly and stalked over to Razikale’s corpse. While she busied herself taking samples of the beast’s blood and scales, Sigrun extricated herself from under Finn’s head and gently laid him down. After a moment’s hesitation, Dorian knelt beside the dwarf and laid a hand on her shaking shoulder.

“Should we bury the fellow?” he asked softly. Sigrun sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“No,” she sighed. “The Gray Wardens are a lot like the Legion of the Dead when it comes to funerals; we know at the beginning that we’ll likely end up dead in the Deep Roads, just like this. The best we can do is just report it to Warden Command.”

“Why did she put some of his blood in that locket?” Delilah wondered aloud, nodding in Castielle’s direction.

Sigrun glanced at her commanding officer, who was now jerking her sword free of the dragon’s corpse. “It’s in memory of those who don’t make it this far. Just the nature of _being_ a Warden is dangerous, and not everybody makes it to this point; even fewer make it past twenty or thirty years. I think she did it to keep his memory with her,” the dwarf explained softly. She sniffed once more before meeting Delilah’s eyes. “I heard you and him talking earlier about spirit healing and such; I think he’d be alright with you having his grimoire, he’s bound to have extensive notes about it.”

Delilah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What, me?”

“Sigrun’s right.” Delilah turned to see that Castielle had returned, her freshly-cleaned sword re-sheathed on her hip. “It’s what he devoted most of his spare time to. If anybody can make use of his research, it’s the Inquisition. From what I hear is going on with this Corypheus, you’re going to need it.”

“I…” For a moment, Delilah was at a loss for words. Then, she nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Alright, thank you,” she said softly. She glanced back down at Finn’s body, and after a moment’s thought leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Finn,” she whispered. “In another lifetime, I think we’d have been good friends.”

Sigrun picked up Finn’s pack and rifled through it before handing Delilah a small, leather-bound book, which she tucked next to the green notebook that Cullen had given her. Longing welled up in the elf’s throat, and she coughed a bit before turning to Castielle. “So, this is the part where you lead us to the nearest Deep Roads surface exit, yes?” she prompted

The senior Warden nodded. “I gave you my word, and I’ll stick to it,” she replied. “Come on, the nearest exit is just a day or so walk from here.”

One by one they left the giant chamber, much more solemn than when they had arrived.

* * *

The day’s walk to the surface exit was devoid of chatter for the most part. When they stopped for a brief rest, Varric took the time to write down everything they knew concerning lyrium being processed Titan blood, and about red lyrium being blighted lyrium. It wasn’t very extensive, admittedly, but Castielle confided in them that Warden command would be very interested in any information that they could share.

Cassandra’s wound ended up being mostly superficial, but Finn’s grimoire was still a huge help. Delilah couldn’t help but find herself reading miscellaneous little passages scrawled on the pages; Finn had used the book as a combination of research notes and a personal journal.

“You’ve done well,” Cassandra commented as she stretched her arm, testing the newly healed flesh.

“I’ve healed you dozens of times before, I’ve always done it like that,” Delilah replied distantly.

“That is not what I meant.” The two women’s eyes met, light green to smoky brown. “Anybody else would’ve likely panicked after being trapped down here like we have.”

“You haven’t,” the elf pointed out. “Neither has Dorian or Varric, or either of the Wardens.”

“ _We’re_ not the ones who are the only people capable of defeating Corypheus,” the warrior reminded her. “You’ve had so much responsibility thrust upon you in the past year, I simply wanted to take a moment to congratulate you.”

Delilah smiled softly and laid a hand on the older woman’s arm. “Thank you.”


	9. A Happy Return

The next few hours before they reached the exit seemed like the longest hours they’d ever endured. The slow uphill climb felt like torture to everybody’s calves, after a couple of days of steady descent.

“I think once we make it to the surface, I’m going to eat something fancy and expensive,” Dorian said, breaking the quiet.

Delilah grunted. “I’d settle for a bath.”

“Well, yes, of course. Perhaps I could eat something fancy and expensive while _in_ the bath,” the Tevinter mused.

“The first thing I’m going to eat when we get back is a nice, juicy steak,” Sigrun chimed in. “With potatoes. And mushrooms.”

“What about those frilly little Orlesian pastries Josephine had imported from Val Royeaux once?” Cassandra said thoughtfully. “They were surprisingly tasty.”

“The tuiles?” Varric laughed. “Those have no substance. If you want something sweet that’ll still fill you up, I’d suggest the éclairs.”

Delilah groaned. “I would kill a man for an éclair right now.”

“Chicken soup,” Castielle said quietly. “With a thick slice of bread to dip in it.”

“That’s it?” Dorian asked, surprised. “You can get that anywhere.”

“Soup has always reminded me of home,” she replied.

“Not to be premature, but I believe we may be getting close to the Deep Roads entrance,” Cassandra interrupted.

Delilah began to ask the woman how she could tell, but even as she opened her mouth, a soft breeze stroked her face. Her knees almost buckled at the sensation – a breeze meant open air. She and Cassandra exchanged a glance, and the warrior’s eyes sparkled with relief.

“Come on, we’re nearly there,” Castielle said.

The group stepped forth with new vigor, following the teasing breeze until they came to a large antechamber lined with dust and scattered stone furniture. On the far side from them was a massive, ornately-crafted double door. Cassandra and Castielle braced themselves against the thick metal and pushed.

Delilah threw an arm over her eyes against the glare that seeped through the crack between the doors; the fat beam of sunlight widened until the doors were fully open.

Before them lay a small forest clearing, surrounded by tall, ancient trees that stretched out to the foot of the mountains some ways into the distance – the Frostbacks. Delilah could almost cry at the sight. Somewhere just on the other side of those ridges lay Skyhold.

Castielle inhaled the chilly air deeply, closing her eyes and letting the sun warm her pale face. “I know I say this every time we do this, but I swear, if I never so much as think about the Deep Roads again, I can die a happy woman,” she sighed.

“I agree with you on that,” Sigrun replied. “This particular mission was…trying.”

Everyone nodded somberly, remembering Murray and Finn, left to rot deep below the earth. Delilah turned to the Wardens. “Again, you have my condolences about Finn,” she said. “From what I saw, he was a good man.”

“One of the best,” Castielle replied softly. “We were friends long before he joined the Wardens. You have my condolences about your agent, in return.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t really know him at all,” Delilah sighed. “I’ll write to his family, tell them myself. I suppose you’ll be returning to Weisshaupt fortress, then?”

“Yes. I must tell them what all’s happened here,” the senior warden replied. “And I need to report the results of our cure for the Calling.”

“Did it feel successful?” Dorian probed. The two wardens shared a glance before Castielle spoke.

“To be honest, we won’t know until we ourselves reach our own Callings,” she sighed. “Maybe Weisshaupt will have more information by now, from the other wardens we’re testing it on.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come by Skyhold first? Rest, resupply, get your gear fixed?” Delilah offered. “I can pay for it; as Inquisitor I’ve got quite the large coinpurse.”

“Bragging, are we?” Varric teased.

The elf stuck her tongue out at him, then turned back to the Warden-Commander. “I also have an ex-warden in Skyhold.”

“There’s no such thing,” Sigrun scoffed.

“There is if you happen to be Grand Enchanter Fiona,” Delilah replied. “She was vague on the details, but she said she was a Warden before the taint was drawn from her completely. She might know something that would be key to your research.”

Castielle’s gaze sharpened at that knowledge, and she took several seconds to weigh the decision. “That is…certainly fascinating,” she said at length. “I will have to take advantage of the Grand Enchanter’s knowledge. However, I cannot postpone my return to Weisshaupt. Sigrun and I must make sure our research reaches the fortress safely.”

“You can’t send a letter? Or even let Sigrun return alone?”

“Traveling so far alone is dangerous, even for someone as skilled as my friend here,” Castielle replied with a faint smile. Sigrun beamed at the praise. “Besides, Warden-Commander Micah would skin me alive if I postponed my report, however much fun I might have at your fortress. But once my research is reported and if they don’t have another mission for me, I will come back and take advantage of your offer.”

“Of course.” Delilah offered her hand, and Castielle grasped it. “I suppose you’re off to go see your husband as well?”

Castielle smiled again, more softly this time. “Yes. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen him last, and there’ve been far too many opportunities for each of us to die before seeing the other again.”

Cassandra sighed. “So romantic.”

“Trust me, between the two of us, Ali is the more romantic,” the warden chuckled.

“Please send him my regards,” Delilah said. “He saved my life at Adamant. He’s a good man.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Castielle chuckled. “I believe this is where Sigrun and I bid you all farewell. Try and make it back to your fortress in one piece; it sounds like the south needs you.”

Delilah gave a mock salute, like she’d seen the Inquisition recruits do a thousand times. “Yes ma’am.”

Castielle returned the salute flawlessly, though the smirk ruined the overall image. “Safe travels, Inquisitor Lavellan.”

“Dareth shiral, Warden-Commander Cousland.”

The two wardens waved and headed north, quickly disappearing into the forest. Delilah and her companions turned east, towards the mountains, and set off.

“Is the plan just to keep walking until we reach the mountains?” Varric probed.

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Delilah asked.

“I’m just saying it’s a long way,” the dwarf explained. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wish we had horses to get back more quickly.” Cassandra and Dorian muttered their agreement.

It took a few hours, but eventually the trees thinned out and they were greeted with the lights of a small village. The smell of something cooking wafted over them, and Delilah felt like she could almost cry at the scent.

“It’s Orlesian but it’ll do,” Dorian muttered.

“Last one there has to eat snails,” Varric offered.

“I’m not sure I’m _that_ hungry,” Delilah said with a groan. “Come on, they’ve got to have an inn or something.”

 

Sure enough, there was a cramped but tidy tavern. They sat at a small table near the back, and soon the single exhausted waitress brought them platters of roast chicken, potatoes, and greens. It was simple fare, but as hungry as they were, every bite was as delicious as Josephine’s box of tuiles.

As they ate, Cassandra pulled out a map and spread it between them all. “We’re somewhere around here,” she said around a mouthful of potato, pointing at the spot on the map. “That should have us about a day or so from the foothills of the Frostback mountains, and four days from Skyhold.”

Delilah barely listened as she shoveled down the food. She glanced out across the room, examining the other people. They mostly seemed to be tired mine workers, in for dinner before heading home for the night. As her eyes roved disinterestedly over the patrons, they passed over a set of horns that seemed familiar.

She squinted, trying to see who the qunari was sitting with. Someone moved out of the way, and across the table from the qunari was none other than Cremisius Aclassi himself, second in command of the Chargers. That could only make the qunari…

Without taking her eyes off him, Delilah reached over and nudged Cassandra. “Cass, you’re not gonna believe this,” she said in a low voice.

The warrior looked up and followed the elf’s gaze. Her jaw dropped. “Well. Isn’t that convenient?” she said after a moment. “Would you like one of us to go over?”

“No, I’ll do it,” the elf replied distantly, already smirking. She stood and weaved her way through the tables. Halfway over, Krem looked up and caught her eye. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but Delilah pressed a finger to her lips. His mouth snapped shut and he watched amusedly as she crept up behind the massive qunari, until she was right behind him.

“Excusez-moi, monsieur,” she said in her most obnoxious Orlesian accent, “the kitchen made an extra platter of snails on accident and we wondered if perhaps you fine people might like to sample it?”

The Iron Bull turned. “Hell yeah, I’m always down for-”

He caught sight of her face and cut off, his eye widening at the sight of her face. She grinned. “Hello Bull,” she said in her normal voice.

The qunari’s scarred face split into a wide smile, and he stood. “Boss! You’re alive!” He bent down and pulled her into a rib crushing hug, smothering her.

“Can’t! Breathe!” Delilah gasped. He released her with a chuckle, and she took the opportunity to wave Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian over.

“Sorry,” he apologized. Behind him, the Chargers also stood, exclaiming their own surprise and relief at seeing her safe. “I can’t believe you’re here though, we all thought you were stuck underground. Leliana sent us out here to rescue you.”

“Sounds like O’Riley managed to get word back to Skyhold. Leliana will be particularly interested in who we ran into during our little adventure,” Delilah said. Bull raised an eyebrow, but let the comment pass without question.

The two groups squeezed in at the Charger’s table, chatting animatedly and eating their dinner. As they ate, they drew up the plan for returning to Skyhold. Once that had been ironed out, someone produced a deck of cards, and they settled into a couple games of Wicked Grace.

Bull and the Chargers had rented a room at the inn, but they offered it to Delilah, Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian, who all gratefully accepted. They spent the night, and in the morning, packed their gear and left.

The trek up the mountain was rough to be sure, but it was a welcome change from the flat, hot Western Approach and the monotonous, stifling Deep Roads. Delilah pulled her jacket tighter around herself against the chill, squinting through the fat snowflakes that drifted down. “How much further is it?” she called to Bull. “I feel like we should’ve reached the road by now.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re nearly there,” the qunari replied. “Right…around…here.” They turned a corner and there, just a ways in the distance, was Skyhold.

Warmth welled up in Delilah’s chest at the sight of the fortress, filled with allies and loved ones. They picked up the pace, and even the whistling mountain wind didn’t seem so cold anymore.

Delilah was easily a hundred yards from the front gates when the portcullis rose, revealing a lone figure standing there. Even at this distance, she recognized Cullen. He broke into a run, relief evident on his features as he drew close.

“Delilah!” he shouted. He made no effort to slow down as he barreled into her, arms scooping her up in a tight embrace she returned gladly. Delilah buried her face in his neck, reveling in his warmth and sturdiness while quietly glad he didn’t have on his usual armor. “You’re safe. You came back, thank Andraste…”

“Of course I came back,” she murmured in his ear. “I made you a promise, didn’t I?”

“I don’t even remember,” he replied. They finally pulled away, but stayed close. “Leliana told us you fell into a mine in the Western Approach, how did you ever manage to escape?”

“I’ll tell you once we’ve gotten into Skyhold,” Delilah promised.

They all made their way inside the fortress, and everybody but Delilah and Cullen dispersed to their relative quarters. Delilah leaned against Cullen and his arm wrapped around her waist. “Which do you want first, food, bath, or debrief?” he offered.

Though the thought of a good solid meal and a long hot bath were enough to make her knees weak, she shook her head. “Debrief. There’s a _lot_ to tell.”

Cullen pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Your work ethic puts mine to shame,” he murmured. “As you wish.”


End file.
